Irish at the front

STATE LIBRARY OF PENNSYLVANIA
mainslks 940.9M145
if is/i at the trout

RISH
A1 mcl FRONT

MICHAEL MacDONAGH

•INTRODUCTION BY

JOHN REDMOND, MP

Class 340.^ Book lT| K£
Volume

Pennsylvania
State Library

I I IE IRISH AT THE FRONT

THE IRISH
AT THE FRONT

By MICHAEL MacDONAGH

Author tf " Irish Life anH Character"

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY

JOHN REDMOND, M.P.

HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO

1916

PREFATORY NOTE

k This narrative of the more signal feats of the Irish
Regiments in France, Flanders, and at the Dar-
danelles, is based on letters of regimental officers and
^men, interviews with wounded soldiers of the
battalions, and those invalided home, and, also, in
^-several cases, on the records compiled at the depots.
- The war is the greatest armed struggle that the
EWorld has ever seen, and when we think of the heroism
^.and resolution shown in it, the trials and the suffer-
ings, the victories and the disasters, and then turn
J to the bald and trite official despatches, the dissimili-
tude of things, the contrast, is most abrupt and jarring.
-wBut so it is, and probably we must continue to rely
upon the accounts given by the men in the fighting
line for any real appreciation of the nature of the
kvar.

MICHAEL MacDONAGH.

.t

166964

CONTENTS

Prefatory Note I *,

\ Dauntless Battle Line . . •••••* " ' '
The Irish Regiments and their War Honours

Introduction by Mr. John Redmond. M.P

Ireland's Part in the War

The Retreat from Mons • • ■ • • " * *
How the Munstcrs Saved the Guns and got
Ringed Round with Fire

II.— Battle of the Rivers . . . . • ■ • • •
Rally of the Irish Guards to the Green Flag at
the Marne

III —Contest for the Channel Coast . . . . • •
Impetuous Dash of the Leinsters and Royal Irish,
and Grim Tenacity of Irish Guards and Rifles

IV.— Asphyxiating Gas and Liquid Fire

Charge of the Liverpool Irish at Festubert; a
Night Surprise by the Inniskillings

V.--— The Immortal Story

Landing of the Dublins and Munsters at the
Dardanelles

VI.— The ioth Irish Division in Gallipoli . .

Landing at Suvla Bav and Capture of Chocolate
Hill

*U

v»» CONTENTS

CHAP.

VII.— In the Rest Camp rAgr

How the Leinsters Caught a Glimpse r»f the 4
Narrows

VIII.— Fight for Kislah Dagh ,

Gallant Stand and Fall of the ;th Dublins "

IX.— For Cross and Crown I0,

Death in Action of Father Finn, of the Dublins]
and Father Gwynn, of the Irish Guards

X. — The Great Push at Loos nq

Historical Football Charge of the London Irish]
with the German Trenches as Goal

XL— The Victoria Cross 128

A Noble Band of Irish Heroes, Officers and Men

XI I.- "For Valour" I4,.

Stories of other V.GVs, including ' Michael
O'Leary, who Upheld Ireland's Tradition of
Gallantry

A DAUNTLESS BATTLE LINE

THE IRISH REGIMENTS AND THEIR
WAR HONOURS

Ireland is represented in the fighting forces of the
Empire by a regiment of Foot Guards, eight regiments
of the Line, each of two Regular battalions, and with
several linked battalions of the Special Reserve, or old
Militia, and many Service battalions raised for "Kit-
chener's Army." Altogether, these various battalions of
the Irish regiments number fifty-four. There are two
Dragoon regiments and one regiment each of Hussars
and Lancers. The Volunteer or Territorial system has
not been extended to Ireland. Still, the country is not
without representation in the Auxiliary Forces. She has
raised two Yeomanry regiments, the South Irish Horse,
;ind the North Irish Horse, and in England there are two
predominantly Irish Territorial battalions, the London
Irish Rifles (18th Battalion of the London Regiment) and
the Liverpool Irish (8th Battalion of the King's Liverpool
Regiment), both of which have "South Africa, 1900-02"
as a battle honour. There are also tens of thousands of
Irishmen in the English, Scottish, and Welsh regiments,
the Artillery, the Engineers, the Army Medical Corps, as
well as in the Royal Navy.

The following are the Irish Infantry and Cavalry regi-
ments, with their badges and battle honours : —

Irish Guards.

In acknowledgment and commemoration of the brave
and honourable part taken by the Irish troops in the Boer

ii

X

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

\Var an Irish regiment of Foot Guards was added to the
brigade of Guards in 1900 by command of Queen Vic
toria. Unlike the Scots Guards, which are largely Eng-
lish, the Irish Guards are almost exclusively Irish
Badges : the Cross of the Order of St. Patrick and the
Shamrock. Recruiting area : all Ireland.

Royal Irish Regiment.

The Harp of Ireland, with the motto Virtutis Namur-
tensis Premium ("The Reward of Bravery at Namur "),
surmounted by a Crown and enwreathed with Shamrocks'
Recruiting area : the Munster Counties of Tipperary and
Waterford, and the Leinster Counties of Kilkenny and
Wexford. Depot, Clonmel.

The Sphinx, superscribed "Egypt." The Dragon, super-
scribed " China." " Namur, 1695 " ; " Blenheim " ; •• Ramillies ,"
Oudenarde " ; " Malplaquet " ; "Pegu"; "Sevastopol";
" New Zealand " ; "Afghanistan, 1879-80"; " Tel-el-Kebir " •
'Egypt, 1882"; "Nile, 1884-85"; " South Africa, 1900-02."'

Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers.

A grenade with the Castle of Inniskilling flying the flag
of St, George inscribed on the ball. Motto : Nec aspera
terrcnt ("The harshest trials do not affright us"). Re-
cruiting area : the Ulster Counties of Donegal, Derry,
Tyrone, and Fermanagh. Depot : Omagh town.

The Sphinx, superscribed "Egypt." "Martinique, 1762";
" I lavnnnnh " ; "St. Lucia, 1778, 1706"; "Maida";
"Hadajoz"; "Salamanca"; "Vittoria"; "Pyrenees";
"Nivelle"; " Orthes " ; "Toulouse"; "Peninsula";
•Waterloo"; "South Africa, 1835, 1846-7"; "Central
India"; "Relief of Ladysmith " ; "South Africa, 1899-1902. "

Royal Irish Rifles.

The Harp and Crown, with the motto Quis Separabit?
("Who shall divide us?") on a scroll beneath, and a bugle
with strings, the symbol of a rifle regiment. Recruiting

A DAUNTLESS BATTLE LINE xi

area : the Ulster Counties of Antrim and Down, including
the City of Belfast. Depdt : Belfast.

[to Sphinx, superscribed '-Egypt." " India "; "Cape of
Good Hope. 1806"; "Talavera"; "Bourbon"; ."Busaco ;
' I'uentes d'Onor " ; " Ciudad Rodrigo " ; " Badajoz ; Sala-
manca"; "Vittoria"; "Nivelle"; "Orthes"; "Toulouse ;
"Peninsula" ; "Central India"; "South Africa, 1899-1902.

Royal Irish Fusiliers.

A grenade with a French Imperial eagle and a wreath
of laurel on the ball, surmounted by the Gaelic motto,
Faugli-a-Ballagh ("Clear the Way"), the whole being set
in a wreath of Shamrocks and surmounted by the Plume
of the Prince of Wales. Recruiting area : the Ulster
Counties of Armagh, Monaghan, and Cavan, and the
Leinster County of Louth. Depdt : Armagh town.

The Sphinx, superscribed "Egypt." "Monte Video";
"Talavera"; "Barrosa"; "Java"; "Tarifa"; "Vittoria";
"Nivelle"; "Niagara"; "Orthes"; "Toulouse"; "Penin-
sula"; "Asia"; "Sevastopol"; " Tel-el-Kebir " ; "Egypt,
1882, 1884"; "Relief of Ladysmith " ; "South Africa, 1899-
1902."

CONNAUGHT RANGERS.

The Harp and Crown, with the motto, Quis Separabit?
Recruiting area : all the Counties of Connaught — Galway,
Roscommon, Mayo, Sligo, and Leitrim. Depot : Galway.

The Elephant. The Sphinx, superscribed "Egypt."
" Seringapatam " ; "Talavera"; "Busaco"; " Fuentes
d'Onor"; "Ciudad Rodrigo"; "Badajoz"; "Salamanca";
" Vittoria " ; " Pyrenees " ; " Nivelle " ; " Orthes " ; " Toulouse " ;

Peninsula"; "Alma"; "Inkerman"; "Sevastopol"; "Cen-
tral India"; "South Africa, 1877-8-9"; "Relief of Ladv-
■mlth"; "South Africa, 1899-1902."

Leinster Regimbnt.

The Plume of the Prince of Wales, encircled by a
wreath of maple leaves, and surmounted by a Crown.

xii THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

m^'^' arca= thTe>einster Counties of Longford,
Meath, Westmeath, K.ng's County, and Queen's County
Dep6t : Birr. }

" Niagara '» ; "Centra! India"; "South Africa, 1900-02."

Royal Munster Fusiliers.

The Shamrock and a grenade with the Royal Tiger on
the ball Recruiting area : the Munster Counties ofcork
Kerry, Limerick, and Clare. Dep6t : Tralee.

"Plassey"; "Condore"; " Masulipatam » ; "Budara"
Buxar ; " Roh.lcund, ,774"; " Sholinfrhur " ; "Carnatic"
Roh.lcund, 1794"; "Guzerat"; "Dcig"; "Bhurtpore"
Ghunzee 1839"; "Afghanistan, 1839"; "Ferozeshah"
Sobraon ; • Ch.llianwallah " ; "Goojerat"; "Punjaub"
Pegu ; ' Delhi, 1857"; "Lucknow"; "Burma, 1885-87"
"South Africa, 1899-1902." 3

Royal Dublin Fusiliers.

A grenade with the motto, Spectamur Agendo ("We are
known by our deeds "), surmounted by a Crown ; also the
Arms of the City of Dublin set in a wreath of Shamrocks.
Recruiting area : the Leinstcr Counties of Dublin, Kildare,
Wicklow, and Carlow. Dep6t : Naas.

The Royal Ti^er, superscribed "Plassey"; "Buxar." The
Elephant, superscribed "Carnatic"; "Mysore." "Arcot"-
"Condore"; " Wandiwash " ; " Pondicher'ry " ; "Guzerat"';
" Sholinphur "; " Nundy Droog"; "Ambovna"; "Ternate";'
"Banda"; " Serinprapatam " ; "Kirkee"; " Maheidpoor " •
"Bern Boo Alii"; "Asia"; "Aden"; "Mooltan";
"Goojerat"; " Punjaub " ; "Pegu"; "Lucknow"; "Relief
of Ladysmith"; "South Africa, 1899-1902."

4TH (Royal Irish) Dragoon Guards.

The Harp and Crown, and the Star of the Order of St.
Patrick.

"Peninsula"; " Ba lak lava " ; "Sevastopol"; " Tel-el-

Kebir"; "Egypt, 1882."

A DAUNTLESS BATTLE LINE xiii
6th (Inniskilling) Dragoons.

The Castle of lnniskilling with the St. George's Bag,
and the word " lnniskilling " underneath.

"Dettingen"; "Warburg"; "Willens"; "Waterloo";
' Bataklava " ; "Sevastopol"; "South Africa, 1X00-1902.

5111 (Royai. Irish) Lancers.

The Harp and Crown with the motto Quis Scparabtt?

"Blenheim"; " Ramillies " ; " Oudenarde " ; " Malplaqu,et " ;
suakim, 1885"; "Defence of Ladysmith " ; "South Africa,
1899-1902."

.Sni (King's Royal Irish) Hussars.

The Harp and Crown with the motto Pristinae vvrtutis
memores ("We are mindful of our ancient glory").

' Leswarree " ; " Hindoostan " ; "Alma"; " Balaklava " ;
" Inkerman "; "Sevastopol"; "Central India"; "Afghanistan,
1879-80"; "South Africa, 1900-02."

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

INTRODUCTION

"Though I am an Englishman, I must say the Irish soldiers
have fought magnificently. They are the cream of the Army.
Ireland may well be proud of her sons. Ireland has done her
duty nobly. Irishmen are absolutely indispensable for our final
triumph."— Letter from Brigadier-General W. B. Marshal, of
the 29th Division, on service at the Dardanelles.

"Your Irish soldiers are the talk of the whole Army. .
Their landing at Suvla Bay was the greatest thing that you will
ever read of in books. Those who witnessed the advance will
never forget it. . . . God 1 the men were splendid."— Captain
1 hornhill, of the New Zealand Force.

" As you know, I am not Irish. I have no Irish connections
whatever. In fact, I was rather opposed to the granting of
Home Rule; but now, speaking honestly and calmly, after
having witnessed what I did— the unparalleled heroism of these
Irishmen— I should say nothing is too good to give the country
of which they are, or rather were, such worthy representatives.
My God I it was grand. It filled one with admiration and envy
. . . I have no religion, but it was most charming and edifying
to see these fine chaps with their beads and the way in which
they prayed to God. We are all brothers, but to my dying day
I bow to the Insh."-Letter from a Scottish soldier at Gallipoli.

N«If!L Ird'"!ndushe may well be proud of the Irish Division.
No men could have fought more gallantly or achieved better
n suits. More of our countrymen are required to beat the
■•""■ins. I am certain that Ireland will respond as enthusias-
t '"y "ow as h™ always done throughout her past his-
tory. Eirego bra t h I n—Lt.-General Sir Bryan Mahon Com
manding the 10th (Irish) Division. ' C°m"

%

2 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

It is these soldiers of ours, with their astonishing
courage and their beautiful faith, with their natural
military genius, w.th their tenderness as well as
strength; carrying with them their green flags and
their Irish war-pipes; advancing to the charge, their
fearless officers at their head, and followed by their
beloved chaplains as great-hearted as themselves;
bringing with them a quality all their own to the sordid
modern battlefield; exhibiting the character of the Irish-
man at its noblest and greatest — it is these soldiers of
ours to whose keeping the Cause of Ireland has passed
to-day. It was never in worthier, holier keeping than
that of these boys, offering up their supreme sacrifice
of life with a smile on their lips because it was given
for Ireland. May God bless them ! And may Ire-
land, cherishing them in her bosom, know how to
prove her love and pride and send their brothers leap-
ing to keep full their battle-torn ranks and to keep
high and glad their heroic hearts !

I find it hard to come within the compass and key
suitable for a Preface when I am asked to write a few
pages to introduce a book about our Irish soldiers.
Too many tilings surge up demanding expression —
gratitude, appreciation of the significance of what they
are doing, anxietv that Ireland may play the part to
them that history has assigned to her. I must only
do the best I can and select a few points to remark
upon.

And, first, let me remark upon this point about
which there is now universal agreement. The war
has brought into view again what had been somewhat
obscured of late : the military qualities of the Irish
race. There are now, throughout the armies in the
field and throughout the world which follows their
fortunes, no two opinions upon this point. I quote
among the words at the head of this Preface the tribute
Of an English General at the Dardanelles which I have

INTRODUCTION

S,

seen in a recent letter, because it is typical of the
military opinion one hears on every hand, and because
for I) is generous praise he has found an expression
which well sums up the general verdict. The Irish
soldiers, he says, are "the cream of the Army." On
the Western front I heard the same idea put in another
pointed phrase: "We always look upon an Irish
regiment as a corps d'elite." The war, in short, is
proving anew the experience which other wars — and
other armies under other flags — have so often tested,
and which makes it a maxim with British Generals,
as it was in Sir Ralph Abercrombie's day, always to
try and have some Irish troops included in their com-
mands, if possible, to be on hand for work about which
no risks of failure can be taken and for which an
inspiring lead is essential. It is proving again that
the Irish people, like their racial kinsmen the French,
are one of the peoples who have been endowed in a
distinguished degree with a genuine military spirit, a
natural genius and gift for war which produces born
soldiers and commanders, and which is the very
reverse of the brute appetite for slaughter. Irish
soldiers may be few in comparison with the scale of
modern armies. They bulked larger in the armies of
Wellington, of which they formed the backbone, when
the proportions of population were different. They
may be comparatively few, but their quality is ad-
mittedly precious. As the English General above
quoted says, they are an "absolutely indispensable"
ingredient .

I shall have to talk about the Irish soldiers in this
Preface; and I want any comrade of theirs who is not
Irish who may chance to see these lines, and any other
reader who is not Irish, to bear in mind that it is
about Irish soldiers I am intended to talk here, and
not about others; that that is my business here; and
I would beg them to understand that in fulfilling this

4

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

duty I am not overlooking for a moment the renown
of English, Scottish, Welsh, or Dominion soldiers
Also, I would like to tell them this : that it is from the
Irish soldiers— and I have listened to it from their lips
again and again— you will hear the heartiest and
warmest tributes to the valour and staunchness of their
British and Dominion comrades. These gallant com-
rades, I know, will be the last to begrudge us the
pious task of making some record of the Irishmen's
work who have fought and died by their side, and of
trying to add, as her sons would wish, to Ireland's
honour through their deeds. The official record has
not been copious, and Ireland may be pardoned the
watchfulness of a mother's pride.

Let me turn from the soldiers themselves for a
moment to look at the significance of the part they are
playing before history. It is important for Ireland,
and I am sure it is also important for the British
Empire, and perhaps for America as well, to appreciate
the part taken by the Irish troops in this war. The
war, which in a night changed so many things, offered
to Ireland a new international place, and her brave
sons, not hesitating, acting upon a sure and noble
instinct, have leaped forward to occupy it for her.
After long struggles the Irish people had won back
from Kngland a series of rights — ownership of the
land, religious equality, educational freedom, local
self-government — an advance which had coincided
with and been helped by the emancipation and rise
of British democracy. The culmination was reached
when in the session of 1914 the Imperial Parliament
passed the Act to establish national self-government.
Ireland had said, "Trust me with this, and I
will wipe out the past and be loyal to the Empire";
and the answer — somewhat long delayed, no doubt,
but still it came — was the King's signature to
the Government of Ireland Act. Thus when the

INTRODUCTION

5

war arrived Ireland had al once a charter of rights
and liberties of her own to defend, and, like Botha's
South Africa, her plighted word to make good. The
war by a most fortunate conjunction united in a
common cause the defence of England against a
mighty danger and the defence of principles for which
Ireland, to be true to herself, must ever be ready to
raise her voice or draw her sword. Besides her honour
and her interest — her interest, always the last thing to
move her, but now happily involved in the same cause
— human Freedom, Justice, Pity, and the cry of the
small nationality crushed under the despot's heel ap-
pealed to her. These things she has followed through-
out her history, mostly, up to now, to her bitter loss,
but not to the loss of her soul ; in that is her distinction
now. Her sons, fighting for her honour and her
interest, are fighting for these things too. It is for
these things — Honour, Justice, Freedom, Pity — she
will stand in that new place of influence she is
winning in the world's councils. There, acting with
and through her sister democracies, Canada, Aus-
tralia, New Zealand, South Africa, and Great Britain
— in all of which, as in the great Republic of the
West, her children are a potent leaven — her spirit will
help to bend the British Empire to a mission of new
significance for humanity. That is the heritage of her
tradition. It was in that spirit her sons went through-
out Europe influencing the world of a thousand years
ago. That is the spirit her sons are illustrating upon
the field of war to-day.

Ireland has chosen this path. I would pause for a
moment further to ask people to think a little on this :
suppose she had, as well she might with her history,
and as some of her sons both at home and in America
have wanted her to do, chosen a different alternative?
Ireland's strength as an international factor is not to
be measured only by her political position at the heart

6

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

of the Empire or her strategic position in the Atlantic,
or by the size of her population at home, but also by
the millions of her kin throughout the Empire and
America, whose deep and enduring sentiment for her,
linked as it is with their distinguished and never-
tarnished loyalty to the new lands of their adoption, is
one of the striking facts of modern history. Germany
understands this factor; and keeps on making un-
ceasing and ingenious efforts, especially in the United
States, to make her account with it.

For Ireland to have chosen the opposite alternative,
or to be flung into it by the fortune of war, would in
my opinion be for her an unmixed calamity, the worst
in her history. Her fate as a possession of Germany,
as Germany's western fortress, naval base, Heligoland
of the Atlantic, would from the nature of the case be
far worse than that of Prussian Poland, Schleswig,
and Alsace for the last forty years. Only those who
are ignorant of Prussianism and its most recent
methods — methods followed long ago by every
tyrannical Power, including the England of the past,
but which Prussia still maintains as a menacing
anachronism in the age of democracy — have any illu-
sions upon this matter. The Irish people, with a few
insignificant exceptions, have no such illusions. They
have, for the first time in their history — a memorable
fact — put a national army into the field, a glorious
army ! And they have put that army in the field for
the express purpose of defending Ireland from such a
fate and of doing their share in helping to rescue the
unfortunate and heroic peoples who have already fallen
under it.

With the Irishmen already serving, or who obeyed
the call as reserves when war was declared, and those
who have volunteered since the war, the Irish army in
the field has amounted to 154.0.18 men to this date,
and this number is being increased and replenished at

INTRODUCTION

7

the rate of about a thousand men a week. More than
a hundred thousand have volunteered since the war,
and before the year is out it is our hope that at least
half another hundred thousand will have followed
their example. To these may be added for Ireland's
credit the officially acknowledged Irish units in Great
Britain, such as the "London Irish," the "Liverpool
Irish," the "Tvneside Irish " (a brigade). But account
cannot be taken, though their existence -may be noted,
of the manv thousands of Irish in English and Scottish
regiments and in the Canadian and Australian forces.
There are some special Irish Colonial units, too, apart
from the Irish, in practically every Colonial battalion,
such as the Vancouver Irish Fusiliers and the Quebec
Irish Regiment. A short time ago General Botha's
wife at Capetown presented green flags to a South
African Irish regiment. But it is the army raised in
Ireland itself which is our more special concern here,
for that is the army which it is Ireland's privilege and
duty to maintain at its full strength in t he field; and
that consists of the regular battalions of the historic
Irish regiments and of three specific new Irish Divi-
sions with "service " battalions of the same regiments.
Each of the new Divisions is under the command of a
distinguished Irish General. The three together
would constitute an Army Corps. The formation of
these three Irish Divisions is a fact of great note. It
is the first time Ireland is officially represented in the
field by a larger unit than the regiment.

It is »o be noted that this book only deals with the
achievements of the old Irish regiments, and one of
the new Irish Divisions, namely, the ioth. The 16th
Irish Division, the 36th Irish Division, and the Tyne-
sicle Irish Brigade have only recently gone to the Front.

From letters home from men and officers, from the
speeches of Generals delivered immediately after an
action, and sometimes sent home in a letter or an

8

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

order of the day, from the spontaneous testimony of
onlookers of other corps rather than from official
reports, the record, so far, of these Irish levies, old and
new, is put together. Official mentions are scant.
The official account given by Admiral de Robeck of
the landing and taking of "V" Beach, with its sunken
wire entanglements, one of the most extraordinary of
deeds, and valuable in results in spite of the appalling
cost to the Irish battalions who accomplished it, for it
rendered the landing of the troops that arrived later
safe — a feat which General Sir Hunter Weston next
day declared to be "without parallel in the history of
feats of arms " — did not even mention the names of the
glorious Irish regiments — although the names of the
regiments concerned in all the other landings were
given with eulogies. General Hamilton, in explana-
tion of his meagre references to the Tenth Division
at Suvla, says he found it difficult to obtain "living
human details." I do not refer to this by way of com-
plaint, though I hope this omission may yet be
officially set right. The thing is past, and there is
going, we hope, to be a great change in such matters
in future. Besides, the facts get known. Such deeds
cannot be hidden — they are too great. I refer to the
matter to explain why it is that books like this, imper-
fect as it is, have to be compiled. Other volumes like
it will have to supplement the tale. We Irish are
determined that henceforth the doings of our armies
in the field shall not be in vain in any sense. Piously
shall we glean the record, whether official or unofficial,
and what our men, our officers, and our Generals think
ought to be known shall no longer, so far as we can
help it, remain unknown. Our brave lads in the battle-
line may rest assured that their country is lovingly
and proudly watching them, and that the sacrifice they
make in her name will, as they wish it— for their wish
is the same as the dving Sarsfield's on the field of
Landeri — go to her profit.

INTRODUCTION

9

The record so far brings Ireland great honour.
And ihis excites no jealousy in the Army — for it is
from the other corps in the Army itself comes the
most generous testimony to the work of the Irish
soldiers and the most comrade-like regret where it is
thought there has been lack of recognition. What
stands out is that on every front, and whether new
levies or regulars, the work of the Irish troops has not
only been of great merit in every instance, but of
exceptional merit, and they have to their credit some
of the moot splendid and astonishing achievements.
The Irish Guards at Mons, the Royal Irish Regiment
at Ypres, the London Irish at Loos (dribbling a foot-
ball before them as they charged — the boys in the
trenches, before the charge, holding out the matches
with whijh they had lit their cigarettes to show each
other that their hands were not shaking), the regular
battalions at " V " Beach, the new "service " battalions
of the Tenth Division at Sulva, I name out of a long
list to illustrate this statement. To General Mahon's
Division, composed exclusively of new levies who
were civilians when the war began — thousands of
Nationalist families in Leinster, Munster, and Con-
naught represented its ranks — the terrific open fighting
at Suvla Bay (which began with the shelling of the
lighters at the landing and the bursting of chains of
contact mines as they set foot on shore) was their
first experience of being under fire. Undismayed,
their coolness undisturbed, they formed for attack as
if on the parade ground. These were the "freshies"
spoken of in the letter partly quoted above of Captain
Thornhill, himself a representative of those magni-
ficent Australian and New Zealand troops whose
prowess his been another of the revelations of the
war. "The Empire can do with a heap more
'freshies' of the Irish brand," he writes. "Their
landing at Suvla Bay was the greatest thing you
will ever read of in books by high-brows. Those that

B*

10

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

witnessed the advance will never, forget it. Bullets
and shrapnel rained on them, yet they never wavered.
. . . God ! the men were splendid. The way they
took that hill (now called Dublin Hill) was the kind
of thing that would make you pinch yourself to prove
that it was not a cheap wine aftermath. How they got
there Heaven only knows. As the land lay, climbing
into hell on an aeroplane seemed an easier proposition
than taking that hill."1 It may be well to point out,
for it bears upon one of the popular fallacies about
Irish character, that it is not only in the desperate
charge or the forlorn hope that Irish soldiers have
proved theii worth in this or other wars. They have
shown it equally in the tenacity, grim yet cheerful,
with whirh for davs and weeks and months difficult
positions are held and bitter hardships borne. Again,
let it be noted what this whole young Tenth Division
proved itself fit for after its months at Gallipoli.
When it was decided to occupy Salonika and to march
to the aid of the Serbian army it was to the Irish
Division, under their splendid Irish commander,

1 One is reminded of tributes to Meagher's Brigade at
Fredericksburg in the American Civil War. " Braver men,"
writes Horace Greely, in his "American Conflict," "never smiled
at death. Never did men fight better or die, alas! more fruit-
lessly than did Hancock's corps, especially Meagher's Irish
Brigade, composed of the 63rd, 6qth, and SSth New York, 28th
Massachusetts, and the 116th Pennsylvania, which dashed itself
repeatedly against those impregnable heights, until two-thirds
of its numbers strewed the ground" (vol. ii., p. 345). In the
same book Greely quotes the following from the correspondent
of the London Times, watching the battle from the heights, and
writing from Lee's headquarters: "To the Irish Division com-
manded by General Meagher was principally committed the
desperate task of bursting out of the town of Fredricksburg and
forming under the withering fire of the confederate batteries to
attack Maryc's Heights. Never at Fontcnoy, Albuera, or at
Waterloo was more undoubted courage displayed by the sons of
Erin than during those six frantic attacks which they directed
against the almost impregnable position of the foe."

INTRODUCTION

ii

General Sir Bryan Mahon, that the place of honour
for this desperate enterprise was given. Coming
straight from their hard service in the Peninsula, they
performed in the Serbian mountain passes above Lake
Doiran what General Sarrail, the eminent French
Commander, the vanquisher of the Crown Prince's
Army at Verdun, has pronounced to be one of the
most striking feats of arms of the whole war. Acting
as a rearguard against an army ten times their number,
they did what was neither expected nor counted upon.
But their instinctive military genius, as well as their
courage and determination, came into play, and they
held up the overwhelming enemy for so long and with
such skill that the entire French and British forces
were able to withdraw safely to their defensive posi-
tions without the loss of a single gun or a single trans-
port wagon.

One seems to be verging on exaggeration in these
accounts, but the thing is bare truth, and I am
striving to bring out what has been done for Ireland
by the character of these troops. I have indicated
their martial quality. But they have brought another
quality into the fie'd which is equally characteristic
and therefore should at least be mentioned here, and
which, perhaps, in the circumstances of the time,
deserves a special reference. That is, their religious
spirit. Fverybody has remarked it. The Irish
soldier, with his limpid frith and his unaffected piety,
his rosary recited on the hillside, his Mass in the
ruined barn under shell-fire, his "act of contrition"
in the trench before facing the hail of the assault, his
attitude to women, has been mostlv a singular impres-
sion. And his chaplain ! The Irish battalion must
have its chnplain as well as its colonel, and both must
be of the best. The chapkiins of every denomination
and of every corps have made a noble name for them-
selves in this war; but I am speaking here only of

12 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

the Irish chaplains— of the men like Father Finn,
killed at "V" beach, refusing to stay behind on the
ship because, as he answered, "The place of the
chaplain is with the dying soldier"; and like Father
Gwynn, of the Irish Guards, killed at the French
front, of whom his battalion commander, a Protestant
Irishman, writes these words: "No words of mine
could express or even give a faint idea of the amount
of good he has done us all out here, or how bravely
he has faced all dangers, and how cheerful and com-
forting he has always been. It is certainly no
exaggeration to say that he w<*s loved by every officer,
N.C.O. and man in the battalion. The Irish Guards
owe him a deep and lasting debt of gratitude, and as
long as any of us are left who saw him out here, we
shall never forget his wonderful life, and shall strive
to lead a better life by following his example." This
quality of our soldiers appears to have impressed
observers, as well as their fighting quality. It is
referred to again and again, and the same transference
of thought from the character of the men to the cause
of their country, as appears in one of the letters above
quoted from a Scottish soldier, a spectator of "V"
beach, occurs repeatedly : "The race that can produce
such men, who did such glorious work for the Empire,
has the most perfect right to get the freedom of its
country and the right to rule it. . . . There is not a
man in the service but who would willingly do any-
thing now for the Irish people — yes, the Irish
Catholics."

Thus we see that our Irish troops in this war are
fulfilling a mission. As I said at the outset, it is
into their keeping, with the eyes of the world upon
them, that the cause of their country for the time
being has passed. The influence of their action upon
her fortunes will extend far beyond the immediate
effects which will appear the moment the war is over.

INTRODUCTION

13

No people can be said to have rightly proved their
nationhood and their power to maintain it until they
have demonstrated their military prowess; and though
Irish blood has reddened the earth of every continent,
never until now have we as a people set a national
army in the field. I have written vainly if I have
not shown, moreover, that never was a people more
worthily represented in the field than we are to-day
by these Irish soldiers. It is heroic deeds entering
into their traditions that give life to nations — that is
the recompense of those who die to perform them —
and to Fontenoy, Cremona, Fredericksburg, and the
rest, these soldiers of the Irish people to-day have
added Mons, Ypres, Loos, "V" beach, Suvla Bay,
Lake Doiran. How do the Irish people regard their
armies in the field? How do their brothers at home
regard these brothers in the battle line, who, at the
call of danger and national opportunity, by passing
into the soldier's panoply have lifted the name of
Irishmen to a new plane in the world's eyes, and
opened to their country's cause a new outlook? To
themselves the same opportunity of ennoblement
comes. The ranks of their brothers in the field are
thinning under the wastage of war. Will they keep
them filled ? Aye, will they 1 I have given my life-
time, such as it has been, to the service of Ireland in
a deep fa:th in the essential nobility and wisdom of
the Irish people. I should be untrue to that faith
if for a moment I had any doubt on this matter —
if I could harbour for a moment the idea that the
young men of Ireland could think unmoved of the
wistful bewildered faces of their noble brothers while
they held back, could watch the ranks of the Irish
armies thinning, and the glorious regiments, brigades,
and divisions gradually filling up with others than
Irish soldiers until their character as Irish armies
finally vanished and ceased to exist — and something,

14

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

I fear, would go with that character which Ireland
might never get back. No, the Irish race has not
changed, as these very soldiers have proved. Chivalry
is of its essence, and nations who do not want to die,
but to live, as Ireland does, must act through their
essential qualities. Those brave sons in the field
need not fear for the honour they have won for their
country. Their brothers are coming to them. Ireland's
armies will be maintained.

J. E. REDMOND.

February, 1916

CHAPTER I
THE RETREAT FROM MONS

HOW THE MUNSTERS SAVED THE GUNS AND GOT RINGED
ROUND WITH FIRE

Regular battalions of all the Irish regiments were
included in the British Expeditionary Force which
left for France, at the outbreak of war, in the early
weeks of August, 1914. For its size it was the finest
Army that the world has ever seen, in equipment,
discipline, and martial ardour. It was commanded
by Field-Marshal Sir John French, the scion of an
Irish family long settled in Roscommon, of which
Lord De Freyne is the head, and a soldier who made
a brilliant reputation as a cavalry leader in the South
African War.

On the morning of Sunday, August 23rd, two of
the three Army Corps which composed the Force were
extended along a front of twenty-five miles east and
west of Mons, a Belgian town of 25,000 inhabitants
and the centre of coal mining, iron, and glass works.
In the First Corps, under Sir Douglas Haig, were the
1st Irish Guards, the 2nd Munster Fusiliers, and the
2nd Connaught Rangers. The Second Corps, under
Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, included the 2nd Irish

'5

16 , THE IRJSH . AT; THE ; ;FRONT

Rifles arid the • 2no Royal' Irish Regiment. The 4th
Royal Irish Dragoons , were with . the cavalry. An
Irish trooper of tiiat:fegimejit .on.'outpost duty had the
distinction' of opening the' Great " War between
England and Germany by firing the first shot, which
brought down a Uhlan officer, in the early hours of
Saturday, August 22nd, fifteen miles beyond Mons,
on the road to Brussels.

The Battle of Mons, the first encounter in force
between the British and the Germans, commenced at
twenty minutes to one o'clock on Sunday, August
2,3rd. Not a German was then in sight. But an
enemy aeroplane hovered overhead, like a hawk-
peering for prey in the fields and hedges, and there
was a burst of shrapnel over the British lines, followed
by the booming of distant artillery. An attack so
soon was unexpected. The bells of Mons had been
ringing for the Sunday services, as usual, all the
morning, and the Cathedral was crowded with wor-
shippers at the High Mass when the sound of the
German guns broke startlingly in upon their devo-
tions. It was a beautiful day, and many of the men in
one of the Irish regiments billeted in a farmyard close
to the town were bare but for their trousers — availing
themselves of the warm sunshine to wash and dry their
shirts and socks after their long tramp in France and
Belgium — when the bugles rang out "Stand to arms."
The Germans were unseen, but having on Saturday
beaten the French at Charleroi — to the British right —
tliev were advancing in overwhelming numbers, under
Von Kluck, in the cover of the woods, railway embank-
ments and hedgerows. Soon the sharp crackle of
musketry was added to the cannonading of the guns,
and the sabre and lance of cavalrv gleamed in the sun.

The first of the Irish regiments to exchange shots
wilii the enemy's infantry were the 2nd Rifles, who
Suffered severely, holding a position in the suburbs

THE RETREAT FROM MONS 17

of Mons. The 2nd Royal Irish Regiment defended
a village behind the town, and on the main road
leading south. A Gordon Highlander named Smiley
says the Irish were "fearfully cut up" when his
company, about two miles behind, were directed to
advance to their relief. The Gordons crept up the
road, and reached the trenches of the Irish at dusk.
Another Gordon says: — "When we got to the
trenches the scene was terrible. The Irish were unpre-
pared for the sudden attack. They were having
dinner when the Germans opened on them, and their
dead and wounded were lying all around."

The Irish Guards, who lay to the east of Mons, on
the British right, had, as the regiment's first experi-
ence of warfare, to meet the shock of a cavalry charge.
One of the most popular recruiting posters in the
early days of the war was a picture of a comical-
looking Tommy on the field of battle. He was repre-
sented striking a match to light his pipe, and saying,
with a devil-may-care glint in his roguish eye, "Half
a mo', Kaiser," while German horsemen in the back-
ground were charging towards him. The idea was
suggested to the artist by an incident in the encounter
between the Irish Guards and the Germans at Mons.
" I am told," says an English newspaper corre-
spondent, "that when the German cavalry were only
200 yards away one Irish Guardsman momentarily
put down his rifle and begged a cigarette of a comrade,
which he coollv lit. Then they ' prepared to receive
cavalry,' and did it in better order and with much less
<*xcitement than if they had been about to witness the
finish of a St. Leger." In this we have an example
"f the easy bearing in the presence of the advancing
foe for which, by all accounts, the Trish are remark-
able. Such imperturbability springs not so much
from contempt of the enemy, as from confidence
m their own prowess. The two front ranks were

18 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

kneeling, and presenting a double row of steel Their
virgin bayonets, seen now for the first time on a field
of battle, glittered as sharp and terrible as if they hac
around them the halo of a hundred victories Stand-
ing behind were two other ranks who poured a stream
of rifle fire into the German horsemen. So the Irish
Guards met the whirlwind of galloping horses anc
Hashing swords, and drove back the survivors in a
ragged, straggling line. They were eager to start
winning battle honours for their banners, and Mons
is a brilliant opening of a list that promises to be
lengthy and crowded before this Great War
terminates.

Then came the order for a general retreat of the
British forces. In the evening Sir John French found
out that he was vastly outnumbered in men and guns
—250,000 Germans to 82,000 British— and saw that
if his Army were to escape being outflanked
and annihilated they must retire until they got
behind some substantial line of natural defence
which they could hope to hold against such fearful
odds.

The retreat lasted twelve days. It was one long
drawn-out rearguard action. The fighting took place
along a line of about twenty-five miles and backwards
for a distance of about eighty miles, which was covered
by forced marches at night as well as by dav. Hardly
for an hour were the British permitted any rest or
respite. They were continually harassed bv enormous
masses of the enemy who by thundering at their heels
and striking at their flanks sought to turn the retreat
into a rout. In that the Germans completely failed.
The retirement was a splendid military achievement.
It was also an episode of intense dramatic interest,
and though I am necessarily concerned onlv with the
part taken by the Irish regiments in the ordeal, it was
made memorable for all time by feats of unparalleled

THE RETREAT FROM MONS 19

heroism and endurance by every arm of the Service,
and each and all of the nationalities represented in it.

The British rearguard frequently gave battle to
their pursuers, holding them in check or sending them
staggering back with the vehemence of the blow. On
Wednesday, August 26th, the first stand was made
on the Cambrai — Le Cateau — Landrecies line*. Here
it was that the 2nd Connaught Rangers gave the
Germans another unpleasant taste of the fighting
quality of the Irish. "It was a grand time we had,
and I wouldn't have missed it for lashin's of money,"
says a private of the regiment in a racy account of the
episode. "The Germans kept pressing our rear-
guard all the time. They were at least five to one, and
we were in danger of being cut off. At last the Colonel
could stand it no longer, so the word was passed round
that we were to give them hell and all. 1 Rangers of
Connaught,' says he, 1 the eyes of all Ireland are on
you to-day, and I know you never could disgrace the
old country by allowing Germans to beat you while
you have arms in your hands and hearts in your
breasts. Up, ihen, and at them, and if you don't give
them the soundest thrashing they ever got you needn't
look me in the face again in this world— or the next ! '
And we went for them with just what you would know
of a prayer to the Mother of Our Lord to be merciful
to the loved ones at home if we should fall in the fight.
We charged through and through them until they
broke and ran like frightened hares in terror of
hounds."

That same day one Division of the Third Army
( orps was brought hurriedly up bv train to Le Cateau.
In it were three other Irish regiments— 1st Irish
His. hts, 2nd Dublin Fusiliers, and 2nd Inniskilling
fusiliers I hey went straight into action to protect
one of the flanks of the resumed retirement. In a
f'ght near Le Cateau the Inniskillings lost many

20 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

officers and men. The Dublins were at Cambrai.
They appear to have been uproariously and out-
rageously Irish. A few weeks later the London
correspondent of the Manchester Guardian gave some
interesting extracts from a letter written by an English
officer of the Dublins. He said that while the men
were waiting for the Germans they sang "The Wear-
ing of the Green" and "God Save Ireland." One of
the officers remarked, by way of a joke, "We have
heard enough all day of your damned Fenian songs,
boys; give us something else." The boys then struck
up, the officer says, a song called " Dea/Old Ireland."
This ballad, by T. D. Sull ivan, tells in stirring verses
and chorus, set to a rousing air, of some of the habits
and customs of Ireland, and of the affection she
inspires. One verse runs : —

" We've seen the wedding, and the wake, the pattern and
the fair,

The well-knit frames at the grand old games in the kindly
Irish air;

The loud ' Hurroo,' we've heard it, too; and the thunder-
ing ' Clear the way! '

Ah, dear old Ireland, gay old Ireland, Ireland, boys,
hurrah."

It was not the first time that the song was heard on
a field of battle. On that night in December, 1863,
in the American Civil War, when the Federals and
Confederates were bivouacked on the banks of the
Rappahannock awaiting the dawn to commence the
bloody fight for Fredericksburg, an Irish regiment in
the service of the North sang the song as they sat by
(heir camp fires. Was that a tremendous echo that
came across the river? —

"For Ireland, boys, hurrah; for Ireland, boys, hurrah 1
Here's dear old Ireland; fond old Ireland —
Ireland, boys, hurrah!"

The Irishmen of the North listened intently. Then it

THE RETREAT FROM MONS 21

came upon them with wild surprise that the chorus
had been taken up by an Irish regiment in the service
of the South ! ,

The officers of the Dublin Fusiliers at Cambrai were
not scandalised, nor did they put on a severe air, when
they heard these rebelly songs, survivals of a dead
past, and yet deeply moving for the national memories
clustering round them. On the contrary, like good
regimental officers, they welcomed them, as they
would probably have welcomed anything that helped
to raise the hearts of their men in their hour of trial.
"As my old brother-officer observes," says the writer
of the letter, "'These confounded Fenians can fight.
Four times within one hour my blackguards drove a
charge home with the bayonet.'"

That day was a most critical one for the British.
The Second Army Corps was streaming southwards.
But Von Kluck was making a determined effort to
outflank and envelop the First Army Corps. The
Corps escaped the net with the loss of one of their
finest regiments, the 2nd Munster Fusiliers, killed,
wounded, and made prisoners. It was the most tragic
event of the retreat. A day or two previously the
Munsters were entrenched behind six guns of Field
Artillery. Uhlans swept down upon the battery and
killed the gunners. Then two companies of the
Munsters charged with fixed bayonets, and put the
Germans to flight. But what was to be done with the
guns? All the horses had been killed, and time was
pressing. Were the guns to be lost after all? The
thought never entered into the heads of the Munsters.
By putting themselves into harness, with a few light
cavalry horses which they had captured from the
Uhlans, they pulled the guns away. "As we had not
enough horses," said a wounded Munster in hospital
at Tralee, "we made mules of ourselves, for we were
not such asses as to leave the guns to the enemy."

22 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

The Suns were brought back five miles, where horses
were available to relieve the Munsters

On the night of August 26lh the regiment were rear-
guard to the ret.ring First Army.' They held two
cross-roads between Chapeau Rouge to the north, and
Fesney to the south, and had orders to keep watch
over these important positions until they got word to
tall back It is said the word was sent not once, but
thrice-the first during the night— but only one
reached them the following afternoon, and then it was
loo late. The other despatch-riders lost their way, or
were shot or made prisoners. The result was that
the Munsters were left in the lurch while the mass of
the hirst Corps, unaware of their comrades' desperate
position, were hurrying away to the south. At dawn,
as the regiment lay concealed behind the hedgerows
and in the beet fields of the farmsteads and in the
orchards laden with fruit, they were discovered by a
German patrol. The enemy at once surrounded them
On three sides and attacked with vastly superior forces.
"The Germans came at us from all points, horse, foot
and artillery and all," said one of the survivors, "and
the air was raving with shouting, screaming men
waving swords and rifles and blazing away at us like
blue murder." To add to their troubles the rain was
falling in torrents, drenching the men to the skin.

The officers decided to withdraw to the village of
Btreux, a few miles back, where they hoped to find the
shelter of a position of defence which might help
them to hold up the Germans, despite the terrific odds
on the side of the enemy. The battalion retired by
Companies — two companies covering the withdrawal
of one another in turns. In fighting these rear-
guard actions the men sought cover wherever they
could find it — crouching in farm buildings, and behind
wagons, walls, and he.-ips of stones, firing at the ever-
ndvancing Germans. The Munsters were grind v

THE RETREAT FROM MONS

silent until it came to bayonet fighting between khaki
and grey, and then the air was rent with yells of rage
and hate, shrieks of pain, and the low wailing sobbing
of the Irish keen.

During the retirement a despatch-rider reached the
Mu nsters. He had a message for them to retire "at
once." It was not timed, but it was probably the last
of the three orders sent from Headquarters, and was
therefore written hurriedly. It seems also to have
been written many hours before it was delivered, as the
bearer said he had been compelled to hide for a long
time from the Germans. But it was too late. The
Munsters were encircled by a ring of fire. The enemy
had worked round to their rear and now barred the
way to the village of Etreux. Major Paul Charrier,
described as a hearty, genial Kerryman, was in com-
mand of the Munsters. Three times he gallantly led
his men in an attack upon the key of the German
position, a large mansion that was loopholed and
turned into a fortress. He was twice wounded, yet
he continued to lead, and in the last assault he fell to
rise no more with a bullet in his head. Eight other
officers were also dead. Six of the survivors were dis-
abled. Between four and five hundred of the rank and
file were killed or wounded. Ammunition was run
out. Not another cartridge was to be found by the
men in the bandoliers of their dead and dying com-
rades. It was then o. p.m. The men listened for
sounds of approaching relief, but none was heard.
There was nothing left for the remnant of the battalion,
reduced to four officers and 256 non-commissioned
officers and men, but to surrender. Onlv 155 men got
out of the trnn, and most of these belonged to the
regimental transport. It came out afterwards that the
Munsters had been engaged against seven battalions
of (,erman infantry, three batteries of artillery, many
cavalry, and many Maxim guns.

24 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

So impressed were the Germans bv the bravery of
i hose Irish lads that they paid every respect to the
living and the dead. Captain H. S. Jervis, the senior
surviving officer, in letters written to the bereaved
wives and mothers of his fellows, states that the next
day the Germans allowed him to send out a burial
party of his own men. "They found Paul Charrier
lying as he had fallen, head towards the enemy," he
tells Mrs. Charrier. "The sergeant told me he looked
as if he were asleep. They buried him, with eight
other officers of the regiment, in a grave separate from
the men." More than that, when the Germans learnt
that their prisoners were Irish and Catholic they sent
for one of their own Catholic chaplains to read the
service for the dead at the graveside of the rank and
file.

Sir Conan Doyle, in a lecture on "The Great Battles
of the War," delivered in London, made the remark:
"If ever surrender was justifiable it was so in these
circumstances." That was said before full and
authentic reports of what happened, including the
composition of the overwhelming forces that sur-
rounded the Munsters, had come from the officers
imprisoned in Germany, which will be found in a
little pamphlet called "The Munsters," written by Mrs.
Victor Rickard, the widow of a brave man who after-
wards commanded the battalion and fell at Rue Du
Bois. The military lesson of the episode, in the
opinion of Conan Doyle, is that great attention should
be paid to making known the real situation to troops
operating at a distance, and the miscarriage of the
messages sent to the Munsters makes pertinent the
telling here of a story, on the authority of a
wounded corporal of the Gloucestershire Regiment, of
a splendid example of Irish resolution and endur-
ance in the operations on the Aisne later on in
September : —

THE RETREAT FROM MONS 25

•' Orders had to be given to a battalion holding an advanced
position to fall back. The only way was to send a man with
orders through a murderous fire. Volunteers were asked for
from the Royal Irish Fusiliers. All wanted to go, but by
tossing for it a selection was made at last. He was a shock-
headed lad who did not look as if there was much in him,
but he had grit. Ducking his head in *a way that made us
laugh, he rushed into the hail of shot and shell. He cleared
the first hundred yards without being hit ; but in the second
they brought him down. He rose again and struggled on
for a few minutes, was hit once more, and then staggered a
bit before finally collapsing.

"Two more men of the Irish Fusiliers dashed into the fire
and rushed across while the Germans were doing their best
to pink them. One picked up the wounded lad and started
back to the trenches, and the other, taking the despatch, ran
ahead. Just as the wounded man and his mate were within
a few yards of our trenches and we were cheering them,
there came another hail of bullets, and both went down dead.
Meanwhile, the man with the despatch was racing for all
he was worth. He got through all right till the last lap,
when he was brought down. He was seen from the other
trenches, and half a dozen men ran to his aid. They were all
shot; but the man with the message was now crawling towards
the battalion in danger. With assistance he reached them
and the object was gained; they were withdrawn to a new
position before the Germans succeeded in their plan of cutting
them off."

By August 29th the British had fallen back to the
line Compiegne — Soissons, before the German hordes.
The weather generally was intensely hot, making the
retreat still more trying to the Army. The situation
was further complicated by the flight southwards of
almost the entire population, thronging and blocking
the roads. When the British fell back the inhabitants
had just commenced the saving of the harvest which,
undreaming of war, they had tended with solicitude
and saw growing with joy. But the corn and grass
were to be garnered by a dissolute and predatory
foreign soldiery whose hands, in many instances, were
red with the innocent blood of those who had sown

26 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

them. So, accompanied by tens of thousands of
fugitives — wailing women and children for the most
part, distracted by the dread and terror of this
calamity which had so incomprehensibly fallen upon
them — tht British hastened on towards Paris.

On Tuesday, September ist, the 4th Guards Brigade
— Grenadiers, Coldstreams, and Irish — had to sustain
at Villers-Coftercts the brunt of another of these fierce
onslaugnts which the Germans delivered against such
of the British troops as attempted to stem the pursuit.
The Brigade had had little rest since the commence-
ment of the retreat with the enemy ever at their heels.
Only the day before, August 31st, the Irish Guards had
the longest and most trying of their forced marches.
Hardy, wiry, and fleet-footed, they covered thirty-five
miles with very little food, as their transport had to
keep far in advance of the column to avoid capture.
At a parade of the battalion on the roadside at Villers-
Cotterets on the morning of September ist, the com-
manding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Morris, address-
ing them on horseback, congratulated his men on their
grit and vitality. He made the very interesting state-
ment that whilst a substantial percentage of the other
regiments in the Guards' Brigade had succumbed to
the heat and fatigue of the march, only five men of
the Irish Guards had fallen out from exhaustion.

Then all of a sudden, as the tale is told by Private
Stephen Shaughnessy of Tuam, the men got orders to
"Fix bayonets." The news was brought that the
Germans were approaching under cover of the woods
which abound in this part of France. Colonel Morris
rode through the ranks, shouting, "Irish Guards,
form up! Remember you are Irishmen ! " The Irish
Guards entered one of the woods and almost imme-
diately caught sight of the Germans. Both sides
blazed away at one another with the rifle, through the
trees and undergrowth, and frequently came into grips

THE RETREAT FROM MONS 27

at the point of the bayonet. Sergeant Patrick Joseph
Bennett, in a letter to his sister at Thurles, gives
another instance of the unruffled mood and quiet con-
fidence of the men during the three hours of fighting
in the wood. "The Irish boys," he says, "were very
cool when the shots were flying round us. They were
calmly picking blackberries." In the end the Germans
were beaten on, but at the heavy loss to the Irish of
150 of the rank and file and several of the officers.
Morris was among the fallen. The last that Private
Shaughnessy saw of the Colonel was on the road
beside the wood giving orders, mounted on horseback
and smoking a cigarette. He was the younger son
of Lord Morris and Killanin, a famous Irish judge
and humorist, and brother and heir-presumptive of
Lord Killanin. He left a son, Michael, who was born
ten days before his father left for the Front, and was
just a month old when his father fell on the field of
honour. Colonel Morris was of the finest type of
soldier, and was long mourned by the regiment.

A good idea of the dangers and hardships of the
retreat, apart from the fighting, and also the humours
which relieved it, is given by a private of the 2nd Irish
Rifles: — "It wasn't the fault of the Germans if we
got away alive. They were after us night and day,"
he says. The greatest trouble of the regiment was
to find their way through woods and strange country
by night. "We got on like the Babes in the Wood,
holding each other's hands, so as not to lose touch with
each other. We dare not light a match or make a
sound that would betray our presence, and when we
saw lights in the distance twinkling like will-o'-the-
wisps, we had to send our scouts to find out the
meaning before we approached." Sometimes it was
the Germans, and then the scouts did not get back,
and the regiment had to dodge the enemy as best they
could. "Once when they were looking for us their

28

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

searchlight played in the open just where we were,
only we were in the shade, and if we had moved another
inch our shadows would have been seen. We heard
them talking and shouting to each other, but they
gave no chase, thinking we had got away in another
direction. We had no food for hours, except such
fruit as we could pick up on the way." Does it not
read as if the pursuers and the pursued were playing
some monstrous game of hide-and-seek ?

By September 3rd the Marne was crossed, and the
long retreat of the British was brought to an end with-
out any grave disaster. French had out-generalled
and out-marched Von Kluck. But the Germans were
also over the river by the 5th and practically at the
gates of Paris. The British Army then fell back upon
the Seine. So black did the prospect appear that the
French Government and Legislature thought it
prudent to remove from Paris to Bordeaux.

CHAPTER II

BATTLE OF THE RIVERS

RALLY OF THE IRISH GUARDS TO THE GREEN FLAG

The British Expeditionary Force was driven
through Northern France before a mighty and irre-
sistible wind of steel and lead, but the tempest did not
overtake and disperse them, as it might have done-
such was its roaring fury — any less disciplined and
stubborn troops. At the end of it all the British were
weary from want of sleep and plenty of hard fighting,
but not badly shaken, and certainly with spirits un-
daunted. So marvellously quick did they recover
that on September 7th, within a few days of the end
of the retreat, they had the great joy of joining with
the French in turning upon the Germans and rolling
them from the gates of Paris back over the rivers
Marne and Aisne.

The Battle of the Rivers consisted of a series of
almost continuous engagements, lasting till the end of
September, principally with strong rearguards of the
enemy who were holding the fords and bridges of the
Marne and Aisne, and their tributaries, the Grand
Morin and the Petit Morin, and the villages, farm-
lands and orchards of the intervening countryside.
Between the different British regiments there was an
emulation to outshine each other. It was a splendid
vanity, for everything done to realise it tended to the
confusion of the common enemy. This phase of the

30 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

war was therefore crowded with incidents showing
the bravery of the soldiers of all the nationalities
within the United Kingdom. From the Irish point of
view the most remarkably dramatic was the rallying
of the Irish Guards round the green flag.

" It is only a square piece of cloth, but its colour is green,
and on it is the Harp of Ireland and inscribed in a wreath are
the words : ' Eire go brath,' once bright and clear, but now
faded and obliterated almost beyond recognition. That is the
flag the Irish Guards obtained when they received information
that they were for the Front, and from the moment they set
foot on foreign soil that treasured emblem of Irish nationality
has been displayed at the head of the battalion, the pride and
admiration of the regiment."

So writes Corporal Michael O'Mara of the Irish
Guards. The first occasion upon which the flag was
produced was when the Marne was crossed, and on
September gth the Irish Guards had to advance for
miles across rather open country, swept bv shot and
shell, to dislodge the Germans from a commanding
position south of the Aisne.

The Irish as soldiers have two qualities which,
though widely different in nature, are reallv each the
concomitant of the other. The first is imperturb-
ability, springing from indifference to danger, of
which the Retreat from Mons supolied some choice
examples, as I have recorded. This attribute is dis-
played while they are waiting for the shock of an
advancing attack, or for the command to launch them-
selves upon a foe shooting at them from behind
entrenchments. The clash comes or the order to
charge is given; and then it is that, showing the other
quality, they give vent to the fire and force of their
passionate temperament, which, as often as not,
impels them to attemot strokes more daring and rash
than the occasion quite demands.

In the course of the advance between the Marne and

BATTLE OF THE RIVERS

31

the Aisne on September yth the changeful fortunes of
the conflict seemed to make the final issue doubtful.
The line of the advance of the Irish Guards was a
hill upon which the Germans were strongly posted
with several machine-guns, each pouring forth a
terrible stream of 600 bullets a minute. Men were
dropping on all sides. Then it was that the towering
form of an Irish Guardsman was seen running well
on in front of the first line flourishing the green flag,
which he had tied round the barrel of his rifle, and
shouting "Ireland for Ever." The men roared at the
sight. On they swept, with redoubled speed, after
the darling flag, in one of their furious, overmastering
Irish charges, made all the more terrible by their
vengeful yells. A thunderstorm was raging at the
time. The gleam on their bayonets may have been
the flash of the lightning, but it was more suggestive
of a glint of the flame of love of country that glowed
in their eyes. "It was all over in ten minutes,"
writes Private H. P. Mulloney to his sweetheart in
Ireland. "They absolutely stood dumfounded, with
white faces and knees trembling. I shouldn't like to
stand in front of that charge myself. Our men were
drenched to the skin, but we didn't care; it only made
us twice as w ild. Such dare-devil pluck I was glad to
see. 'Back for those guns,' roared an officer, 'or
I'll have every one of you slaughtered.' The men
didn't want telling twice. We proceeded to line up
the prisoners and collect the spoils, which amounted
to about 150 prisoners, six Maxim guns, and 38,000
rounds of ammunition." Even in these rude passages
we find expressed the rapture of the Irish Guardsmen
with the tumult and the passion of the fight.

The hill was surmounted and the machine-guns
taken. Afterwards the advance was continued for
nve miles, over a country covered with dead Germans
and horses, and blazing homesteads. The Irish

32

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

rested for a time in a field, and then pushed on again
until they reached the banks of the Marne. They
captured 600 Germans, including many officers and
eieht machine-guns. But if the advance was swift,
sure and triumphant a bitter price had to be paid for
it as is the way of war, for many a fine and stalwart
Irish youth found his grave between the rivers.

The man who produced the green flag was Corporal
I I Cunningham from Dublin. He bought it in
London before the Irish Guards left for the Front It
became a prized possession of the regiment You
may be surprised to hear that the Irish flag I bought
from the pedlar before parting with you I have still
sot" Cunningham, who was made a sergeant, says
in a letter to a friend in London. *' It has been carried
through all our engagements, and with God s help 1
will carry it back to England. Clay from the trenches
has made the harp on it very dirty but thank God,
that is the only disgrace it has suffered. I did not
think when we were buying it that it would go
through so much." I am told, indeed, that in a far
later stage of the war, at another critical moment, it
was flourished by the Earl of Cavan, an Irishman, then
in command of the Guards' Brigade, to egg on the
Irish to an enterprise before which other units had
excusably quailed. He knew of the episode between
the Marne and the Aisne. He had probably heard
also a story of the American Civil War. An Irish
regiment on the side of the North carried a green flag
bearing a harp in the glow of a sunburst and so noted
were thev for their wild and reckless daring that a
Confederate general, seeing the dreaded colour
surging forwards, and borne proudly aloft through
the battle smoke and the hail of bullets, cried out to
his men, "Steady, bovs, steady. Here s that infernal
green flag again." The Germans, on the day that
Lord Cavan waved the improvised flag of the Irish

BATTLE OF THE RIVERS

33

Guards had reason also to curse it if they but knew—
for the loss of valuable trenches.

On September 13th the main forces of the Germans
retired to the high ground two miles north of the
Aisne and entrenched themselves. As the British
also dug themselves in, this was the beginning of
trench warfare. But the combatants did not settle
themselves down to it entirely for some months
afterwards. There were still surprise attacks and
counter-strokes, in which cavalry took a part, as is
seen from an adventure of the 2nd Irish Fusiliers as
told by Lance-Corporal Casement. "One night," he
says, "after a very hard day in the trenches, when we
were wet to the skin, and had lighted fires to dry our
tunics, we heard firing along our front, and then the
Germans came down on us like madmen. We had
to tackle them in our shirt-sleeves. It was mainly
bayonet work, and hard work at that. They were
well supported by cavalry, who tried to ride us down
in the dark, but we held our ground until rein-
forcements came up, and then we drove the enemy
off with a fine rush of our horsemen and footmen
combined."

One of the most inspiring of the deeds of self-
sacrifice which the war has produced was done by an
Irish soldier. In the churchyard of a village near
the Aisne is the grave of a private of the Royal Irish
Regiment marked by a cross without a name, but with
the arresting inscription — "He saved others; himself
he could not save." The story of how this unknown
hero gave his life to save others was told by a wounded
corporal of the West Yorkshire Regiment in an hos-
pital at Woolwich. On September 14th, in the con-
cluding stage of the struggle for the Aisne, the
battalion was sent .ahead to occupy a little village near
Rheims. "We went on through the long, narrow
street," says the narrator, "and just as we were in

C

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

sight of the end of it a man in khaki, to our great
surprise, dashed out from a farmhouse on our right
and ran towards us shouting a warning. Immediately
we heard the crackle of rifles in front, and the poor
chap fell dead before he reached us." The West York-
shires ran to cover, and ultimately drove the Germans
out of the houses they occupied at the outskirts of the
village. Then they discovered that an ambush had
been prepared into which they would have moved to
their doom but for the warning given by the man in
khaki at the cost of his life. He was a private of the
Royal Irish Regiment — 2nd battalion — who was taken
prisoner the day before and confined in the farmhouse,
but his identification disc had been removed by the
Germans, and there was no means of discovering his
name. "We buried him with military honours," con-
cludes the narrator; "and there was not a dry eye
among us as we laid him to rest."

At this early period of the war, while the cavalry —
not yet transformed into infantry by the adoption of
trench warfare — were still being used as horsemen,
Irish troopers were distinguishing themselves. I have
noticed in the newspapers, from time to time, disputes
as to which unit of the auxiliary forces was the first to
come under fire. The honour had been claimed by
the London Scottish, who entered the field at Neuve
Eglise in the first days of November, and allowed
until it was established that the Northumberland
Yeomanry had been in action before the London
Scottish left home. But the Northumberland Hussars
have in turn to yield to the South Irish Horse. This
section of the Irish Yeomanry went to France early
in August, 1914. They were attached to the Guards'
Brigade, and were with the Irish and Coldstreams
when they turned in the little town of Landrecies to
hold back the Germans on August 25th, the second

BATTLE OF THE RIVERS 35

day of the retreat from Mons. The North Irish Horse
arrived in France on August 20th, and pushing for-
ward at once reach* d the Frencli and Belgian frontier
in time to relieve the pressure on the retreating forces.
They had their baptism of fire near Compiegne on
September 1st, and fought again a few days later at
Le Cateau. These little side details or footnotes of
history are not without their interest. Often, indeed,
they excite the mind even more than the big, decisive
events.

During the Battles of the Marne and the Aisne both
the North and the South Irish Horse were employed
rounding up parties of Uhlans in the woods, and
scouring the isolated villages and deserted farmhouses
for stragglers. The Uhlans, by all accounts, were
contemptible as foes. "They run like scalded cats
when they see you," writes Captain N. G. Stewart
Richardson, of the North Irish Horse, to a friend
in Belfast, "and are always in close formation as
if afraid to separate. I had a grand hunt after twenty
(there were five of us), and we got four dead,
picking up two more afterwards. We came on them
round the corner of a street, and they went like hunted
deer."

The duties were discharged with varying good luck
and bad. Corporal Fred Lindsay tells'how the North
Irish Horse discovered one of those minor tragedies
of war and lost Troopers Jack Scott of Londonderry
and VV. Moore of Limavady. "With a Sergeani
Hicks they were sent to patrol as far as a ford in the
river which, unknown to us, was held by a German
force with a machine gun. When the three reached
the ford they found a' British officer dead across his
motor-car and some of his men dead around the car.
They were about to dismount to investigate when the
machine-gun fired upon them, instantly killing the

36 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

two troopers. Sergeant Hicks escaped on Moore's
horse, his own being shot under him." On another
day, the same troop came upon a force of Uhlans in a
wood near a village, and succeeded in killing some,
taking a good many prisoners, and capturing a
number of horses. "In this action," Corporal Fred
Lindsay relates, "Trooper M'Clennaghan, of Gar-
vagh, accounted for three Uhlans and took two horses
single-handed; and two others and myself, firing
simultaneously at an escaping Uhlan, brought both
horse and rider down at 900 yards' distance. Sitting
on the Toadside later eating biscuits and bully beef
with the Test of .us Viscount Massereene complimented
us, saying, ' Boys, you have done a good day's work.
If we only had an opportunity like this every day ! ' "
Subsequently the North Irish Horse had the distinc-
tion of forming the bodyguard of Sir John French.
The South Irish Horse took service, like the cavalry,
in the trenches.

There is also to be told a story of a clever ambush
and capture of a long scattered line of German
transport wagons loaded with food by a party of the
5th (Royal Irish) Lancers after the Battle of the
Marne. Commanding a bridge over a stream, by
which the convoy had to pass, was a coppice in
which the Lancers were able to conceal them-
selves and the horses. They waited until the head
of the column was straggling across the bridge,
and then they emptied their carbines into them
along a wide front that gave the impression of a great
force being engaged in the attack.

One who was there thus describes what followed : —

"The Germans were taken completely by surprise. Their
horses started to rear and plunge, and many men and animals
went over into the stream, being carried away. The motor
wagons could not be stopped in time, and they crashed into

BATTLE OF THE RIVERS 37

each other in hopeless confusion. Into this confused mass of
Stened men and horses and wagons that had run amok
the Lancers now charged from two separate points setting up
e most awful cries in English where they didn't know any
other language, but as some knew a little French and others
more l.ish they joined in, and all that added to the confusion
of the Germans, who must have fancied that the whole Allied
Army had come down on them. The Lancers made short work
of the escort at the head of the column, and the officer in
command agreed to surrender all that was under his direct
control though he said he couldn't account for the rearguard.

CHAPTER III

CONTEST FOR THE CHANNEL COAST

IMPETUOUS DASH OF LEINSTERS AND ROYAL IRISH, AND
GRIM TENACITY OF IRISH GUARDS AND RIFLES

It had become evident that the design of the
Germans, then hacking their way through Belgium,
was to reach Calais and Boulogne so as to cut the
direct communication of the British with the Channel
coast of Belgium and France. With the view of
frustrating these plans, Sir John French, early in
October, withdrew his forces from the orchards and
woodlands by the banks of the Aisne to French
Flanders, on the north-west, a mingled industrial and
agricultural country. The British Commander had
also hoped to be in time to outflank the right wing of
the enemy, but in this he was disappointed by the fall
of Antwerp, which enabled the Germans to sweep
quickly round to Ostend, higher up the Belgian coast.

The British lines now ran, first from the historic
French city of St. Omer in a south-easterlv direction
to the smaller towns of Bethune, Givenchv, and La
Bass<*e, towards the great French manufacturing city
of Lille, prominent on the landscape with its forest of
tall chimneys; and, secondly, from St. Omer again
north to Ypres, the ancient and beautiful capital of
Flanders. Here, for months to come, many most

CONTEST FOR THE CHANNEL COAST 39

desperate and critical battles were to be fought, in an
extraordinary tangle of railways, canals, roads, indus-
trial villages, mills, breweries, dyeworks, machine-
shops, brick-fields, lime-kilns, and intervening
patches of intensive agriculture— the most densely
crowded area in the world— with the ultimate result
that the advance of the Germans to the Channel
coast was stopped by impregnable lines of British
trenches.

In these operations both the ist and 2nd battalions
of the Leinsters, the Connaught Rangers, the Irish
Rifles, the Irish Fusiliers, and the Irish Regiment
took part, with the 2nd battalions of the Dubhns,
Munsters, and Inniskillings, whose first battalions —
as we shall see later— were destined for more terrible
enterprises against the Turks at the Dardanelles. It
is not easy to get from the official despatches the
correct proportion of the main events in France and
Flanders, not to speak of being able, by the impersonal
generalities of these documents, rightly to estimate
the worth of the services of particular battalions. My
purpose, therefore, is to attempt to depict the war on
the Western Front, as seen through the eves, not of
the commanders, but of the men in the ranks and the
regimental officers, and in doing so I confine myself
necessarily to episodes happening here and there over
the far-spreading field of conflict in which Irish
regiments and individual Irish soldiers distinguished
themselves.

There were two tremendous and prolonged struggles
for the possession of Ypres. The chief battle, that
of Ypres-Armentieres, lasted from October 17th to
November 15th, 1914. One of the first movements
of the British was to dislodge the enemy from
positions they held near Lille. In these engagements
national impetuosity led to the advance of two Irish
battalions too far without supports, and their practical

4o THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

annihilation. On October 18th the 2nd Leinster Regi-
ment was part of a Division which chased the Germans
out of the French town of Hazebrouck, about twenty-
five miles north-west of Lille, and pursued them be-
yond Armentieres, a town on the river Lys, within nine
miles of Lille. The Leinsters were about a mile in
advance of the main body. They pushed on to a
French village called Premesque, still nearer to Lille,
and there entrenched, when the Germans surrounded
them. For a day and a half the Leinsters held
out until they were relieved by French troops. The
French Commander thanked them for saving the
village, but it cost the battalion more than 500 men
and officers.

At the same time another Irish battalion was
engaged on a similar enterprise in the same field of
operations with more disastrous results. "On
October 19th," says Sir John French in his despatch
on the battle of Ypres-Armentieres, "the Royal Irish
Regiment, under Major Daniell, stormed the village of
Le Pilly, which they held and entrenched. On the
20th, however, they were cut off and surrounded,
suffering heavy losses." As the possession of Le
Pilly threatened their communications between La
Bass^e and Lille, the Germans made a determined
effort to capture it. It was evident to the Royal Irish
that their position was most precarious. They held
on, however, and beat off a succession of attacks,
hoping that assistance would come before they were
completely isolated. German riflemen crept up and
ensconced themselves in farm buildings on the out-
skirts of the village on one side; and machine-
guns were brought to a little wood on the other,
so that the Royal Irish were enfiladed to the left and
right.

The fight was still going on when darkness fell.
"All night we could hear the firing up there," writes

CONTEST FOR THE CHANNEL COAST 41

(, miner P. Hall, Royal Field Artillery, who was with
his battery on a hill some miles from Le Pilly; "and
desperate efforts were made by our tired troops to
regain the ground the Royal Irish had left uncovered,
but the job was too big for men so exhausted as they
wen." What exactly had happened was but a
matter for surmise. For hours after the village had
been surrounded by the Germans the crackle of rifles
and the rapid volleying of the machine-guns told that
the Royal Irish were yet unsubdued. Then there
came an ominous silence; and in the early hours of
the morning a few survivors of the battalion staggered
more dead than alive into the British camp. "They
got a rousing cheer, for we had given them all up as
lost," says Gunner Hall. For the rest, some weeks
later, a long official list of names of the Royal Irish
Regiment appeared under the heading "missing."
Rut the vast majority of them will never be found
until the Day of Judgment.

The Royal Irish Regiment had ceased to exist as a
fighting force. The battalion may be said to have
been defeated. The enemy, no doubt, boasted of it
as such. But they set thus early in the war a shining
example of dash, resolution, and endurance in facing
fearful odds which must have had as much moral
effect as a victory to our arms.

The most terrific phase of the great battle was from
October 20th to November 2nd, immediately to the
M)uth of Ypres, east and west; and the most critical
hours were, as Sir John French savs, on October 31st.
when the Germans broke through the British lines at
Gheluvelt, a village on the road leading from Ypres
south-east to Menin. On November 2nd the Germans
were everywhere repulsed. The Brigadier-General,
Lord Cavan, commanding the 4th (Guards) Brigade,
paid the following remarkable tribute to the work of
IDC Irish Guards on that momentous occasion in a

c*

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

letter to the Officer Commanding the battalion,
Colonel Proby : —

" I want you to convey to every man in the battalion that I
consider that the salety of the right flank of the British section
depended entirely on their staunchness after the disastrous
day, November ist. Those of them that were left have made
history, and 1 can never thank them enough for the way in
which they recovered themselves, and showed to the enemy
that Irish Guards must be reckoned with, however hard hit."

Lord Cavan, in a report dated November 7th, further
states: — "On October 31st, November ist and 6th,
the Irish Guards lost 16 officers and 597 other ranks
in disputing 200 yards of ground with superior forces."
Private Stephen Shaughnessy supplies an account of
the incidents of November 6th, when the Irish Guards
were overwhelmed. He says: — "At this time the
enemy's strength was two to one. We endeavoured
to hold the enemy by machine-guns and rifle fire,
until they succeeded in penetrating the French line
about two or three miles on our right, and managed to
come behind our rear line." Then he gives an instance
of the desperate duels that were fought between the
slowly retiring Irish and the hotly pressing Germans.
"While retreating," he says, "Captain King-Harman
was the only officer I saw alive. He was then standing
up and firing with his revolver on the Germans, who
were only 60 yards away. I, or anyone else in our
battalion, did not see him alive afterwards." He
adds : — "The only comrade I found within reasonable
distance was Private Birmingham, of Clonmel,
formerly of the Royal Irish Constabulary. We dis-
cussed the situation. He got over the trench to fall
back to the troops reforming in our rear. As I was
getting out of the trench, a rifle bullet came through
my great coat, penetrated my cardigan jacket without
touching my body. We formed up again, and were
reinforced by the Life Guards, notwithstanding which

CONTEST FOR THE CHANNEL COAST 43

we were unable to regain our lost territory. When
darkness came, we were brought back a mile behind
the line for a rest and refreshments. The roll wab
called, and only 47 of the battalion answered."

The worst was over ; and Sir John French indirectly,
at least, extols the Irish Guards for helping to avert
a disaster, by his praise of their Brigade Commander,
Lord Cavan. In his despatch on the Battle of Ypres-
Armentieres, the Field-Marshal says: — "The First
Corps Commander (Sir Douglas Haig) informs me
that on many occasions Brigadier-General the Earl
of Cavan, commanding the 4th Guards Brigade, was
conspicuous for the skill, coolness, and courage with
which he led his troops, and for the successful manner
in which he dealt with many critical situations."

Another Irish regiment to obtain one of these rare
and therefore much coveted recognitions by a Com-
mander of an Army Corps was the Royal Irish Rifles,
who were fighting round the village of Neuve
Chapelle, to the south, from October 25th to October
27th. "During an attack on the 7th Infantry
Brigade," runs an order issued by Sir H. Smith-
Dorrien, the Commander of the 2nd Corps, "the
enemv came to close quarters with the Royal Irish
Rifles, who repulsed them with great gallantry with
the bavonet. The Commander wishes to compliment
the regiment on its splendid feat, and directs that all
battalions shall be informed of the circumstances of
his high appreciation of the gallantry displayed." On
October 27th the Germans gained possession of the
northern part of the village, but towards evening the
British had partially recovered the lost ground when
fresh hostile reinforcements were brought up, and the
entire village was captured by the enemy. The
Germans would have made a bigger advance were it
not for the gallant stand of the Irish Rifles against
overwhelming x>dds.

44

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

A sergeant of the battalion supplies some details of
the feat: — "One morning after we had had several
days of awful shelling in the trenches the Germans
came to attack us. They advanced into view through
the rain and mist, and though they were ten times our
strength we held our ground until the necessary dis-
positions could be made in other parts of the field to
withstand their onslaught." As will be seen from
many an incident in the course of this narrative the
Irish fight best when it comes to the real crisis — the
two antagonists engaged in close and relentless con-
test, man to man and bayonet to bayonet. At first it
was furious smithing, gleaming thrust and parry, stab
and hack, hack and stab, with the Irish in the trenches
and the Germans above; and, in the end, it was the
Germans running away and the Irish speeding their
departure with rifle fire. "We did not think there
was anything very wonderful about what we did."
says the sergeant modestly, "but everyone went wild
about it. One staff officer said we ought all to have
two Victoria Crosses each, and we had the satisfaction
of being splendidly praised by the General in
Command."

"Nothing," says Napier in his "Peninsular War,"
"so startled the French soldiery as the wild yell with
which the Irish regiments sprang to the charge." We
are also told by Napier that at Barrosa and Bussaco
the heroes of Marengo nnd Austerlitz reeled before the
thunder shout of Faugh-a-Ballagh ("Clear the Way")
raised by the Royal Irish Fusiliers and the Connaught
Rangers. What is more likely is that the French gave
way before the irresistible bayonet charge that swept
like a flame in the thunder of that haughty battle-crv.
The Great War shows that both these historic regi-
ments maintain the ancient tradition of raising a wild,
terrific yell when they dash forward, a yell which
sends the creeps down the back, and impels the foe

CONTEST FOR THE CHANNEL COAST 45

irresistibly to turn and fly for fear of what is to
follow.

The Irish Fusilitrs were the first to enter Armen-
tieres (on the occasion that the Leinsters impetuously
pushed forward to Premesque), and they did so shout-
ing their old Irish slogan, Faugh-a-Ballagh, and
♦■nlorcing it by driving the enemy from their positions
behind every tree and at every turn on the road leading
into the town. Private H. Dawson, a Westport boy
in the 1st Connaught Rangers, tells how a company
of the battalion frightened a big force of Germans out
of their trenches, and out of their senses also, no doubt,
by the blood-curdling yells they gave vent to as they
advanced with the bayonet. It was on the night of
November 4th, 1914, in the neighbourhood of Neuve
Chapelle. The company was ordered to attack the
German trenches, two platoons to do the fighting and
the two others to follow after with shovels, to fill in the
trenches, if they were taken. "At midnight," writes
Private Dawson, "we moved forward with such cheers,
shouts, and cries that the Germans, thinking that a
whole brigade was advancing, evacuated the trenches
and fled. The moon was shining, and when the
Germans afterwards saw the handful of men that
routed them they returned in greatly increase"!
numbers and made a murderous onslaught on us."

They can sing, too, as they advance, these Con-
naught Rangers, as Private Robert McGregor of
the Gordon Highlanders relates in a graphic letter
to his father at Parkhead, Scotland. On December
26th, 1914, the Germans attacked the trenches in front
of them at a particular point. The Gordons who held
the trenches got out to meet the enemy as they came
on in the open. There was a close fight with varying
fortunes, but the Germans were reinforced, and as
there were only about 170 of the Gordons left it seemed
as if they were bound to be annihilated.

46 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

"But just at that moment," writes Private
McGregor, "we heard the sound of singing, and the
song was ' God Save Ireland.' It was the Connaught
Rangers coming to our relief. Well, I have seen
some reckless Irishmen in my time, but nothing to
match the recklessness and daring of these gallant
Rangers. They took the Germans on the left flank.
The Germans now probably numbered about 2,000
against 800 Connaughts and 170 of us, but were they
50,000 I don't believe in my soul they could have
stood before the Irish. The Connaughts simply were
irresistible, and all the time they kept singing ' God
Save Ireland.' One huge red-haired son of Erin
having broken his rifle got possession of a German
officer's sword, and everything that came in the way
of this giant went down. I thought of Wallace. Four
hundred and seventy Huns were killed and wounded,
and we took 70 prisoners. Had it not been for the
Irish I wouldn't be writing this, and when it comes to
a hand-to-hand job there is nothing in the whole
British Armv to approach them. God save Ireland
and Irishmen."

CHAPTER IV

ASPHYXIATING GAS AND LIQUID FIRE

CHARGE OF THE LIVERPOOL IRISH AT FESTUBERT ; A
NIGHT SURPRISE BY THE INNISKILLINGS

Many a desperate engagement has been fought from
Ypres in the north to La Bass^e in the south. Neuve
Chapelle, St. Eloi, St. Julien, Festubert, Givenchy,
Hooge — to mention a few of them — are places that
w ill stand for all time in history as the scenes of most
bloody and tragical battles. They do not all spell
British victories; but every vowel of them represents
British bravery, suffering, endurance, resolution ; and
linked with them in enduring fame are the Dublins,
Munsters, Inniskillings, Leinsters, Connaughts, Irish
Fusiliers, Irish Rifles, and the Irish Regiment. An
Irish battalion of another kind makes a splendid entry
into the history of the war at this stage — the Liverpool
Irish. They all had to face the new and most in-
famous methods of fighting introduced by the
Germans, clouds of asphyxiating gas and sheets of
liquid fire, the opening, literally, of "the mouth of
hell " in warfare. But these horrors were encountered
and overcome by the Irish battalions with the same
valour as had previously rendered vain the more
legitimate weapons and methods of the enemy.

47

48 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

Neuve Chapelle is a rural village, with manv
enclosed gardens and orchards, four miles to the north
of La Bassee, and on the road between Bethune and
Armentieres. Fierce engagements for its possession
were fought in October and November, 1914. The
Germans were driven out of it on October 16th. It
was retaken by them at the beginning of November;
and though strongly entrenched and barricaded by
the enemy it was finally captured by the British on
March 11th and 12th, igi 5.

The 2nd Royal Irish Rifles took part in the severe
fighting around the village at the end of October,
19 14, and, as I have already stated, were highly
praised by Smith-Dorrien for their valiancy in holding
up a big German attack. Tliey lost heavily on that
occasion, but their dead were avenged by the help the
battalion gave in inflicting so serious a defeat upon
the enemy as the victorious reoccupation of Neuve
Chapelle. The first glimpse we got of the Royal
Irish Rifles in the battle is in a letter written by an
officer of a battalion which was closelv co-operating
with them, Captain and Adjutant E. H. Impey, of
the 2nd Lincoln Regiment. "The Irish Rifles
came through us," he says, referring to proceed-
ings on March 10th, "and we cheered them lustily.
Lieutenant Graham was rallying his men round
him with a French newsboy's horn, giving a
1 view-hallo ' occasionally just as a master collects
his pack."

Captain Impey states that on the next day, March
nth, the Lincolns were ordered to support the Irish
Rifles, "Owing to some mistake," he says, "the Irish
Rifles attacked before their time, and so got no
artillery support. They lost very heavily in officers
and men." It was on this day that the battalion
suffered the grievous loss of their commanding officer,
Lieut.-ColonH George Brenton Laurie. On the first

ASPHYXIATING GAS AND LIQUID FIRE 49

day Colonel Laurie seemed to have had a charmed
life. "He deliberately walked up and down, giving
orders and cheering the men on amid a flood of fire,"
says Sergeant-Major Miller of the battalion. "He
seemed unconscious of the fact that a great bombard-
ment was taking place. It was a wonderful sight to
see him there, his big military figure standing out
boldly in presence of his soldiers." Colonel Laurie
was killed by the terrific shell fire which the Germans
poured on the advancing British. "It was brutal.
We were lying in a wood. The bullets were whistling
over us in millions, and the screeching of the shells
was terrific," says Bugler Jack Leathern in a letter to
his mother at Downpatrick. "The trees were flying
about like chaff and the fellows getting blown to
pieces. I do not know how some of us escaped.
Someone must have been praying for us. You
know I am not very nervous, but I was not sorry
when it was over. It was four very hard days,
fighting both day and night, with no sleep and no
trenches to protect us, only the ones we dug our-
selves with our entrenching tools. They saved us
from the bullets, but it was impossible to get out of
shell-fire."

"You would hardly credit it," adds Bugler Leathern,
"but every time we lay down to take cover out came
our pipes and ' fags.' You would have thought we
were on a manoeuvre parade at home instead of in one
of the fiercest of battles." This was the spirit that
brought the battalion to Neuve Chapelle. About one
o'clock in the afternoon of March nth the 2nd
Lincolns proceeded up the road into the village,
or, as Captain Impey says, "the ruins of what
was once a very pretty village," and found the Irish
Rifles there before them. "We lay in support
in this village," Captain Impey writes, "while the
Irish Rifles fought the enemy in front. A company

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

was sent in close support just behind them along a
hedge."

One of the most interesting documents relating to
the Irish regiments in the war is a letter written by
Father Francis Gleeson, chaplain of the 2nd Munster
Fusiliers. In it he states that each of the four com-
panies of the 2nd Munsters carries a green flag with a
golden harp in the corner, the Royal Tiger in the
centre, and "Munster" inscribed underneath. "The
Irish flags are being highly honoured," he says. "The
French people are awfully kind to and fond of ihe
Munsters, because they are so Irish and Catholic. It
is really true to say that in us, the ' Munsters,' they
recognise the children of the men who fought for them
at Fontenoy and Landen. They know that we are
old, old friends, indeed. Their histories tell of
Ireland's brave sons having died for their country
here." Moved by these memories of the Irish Catholic
Brigade in the service of France from the fall of the
Stuarts in England until the fall of the Bourbons in
France — and regularly recruited for a hundred years
from Ireland — the French people recognise the dis-
tinct and separate nationality of the Irish regiments.
"We are ' Les Irlandais,' and not ' Les Anglais, '
says Father Gleeson. "Our flags have done that.'"
"The French priests are very fond of us," he goes
on to relate, "and give us the use of their beautiful
chapels. The people wept after the Munsters the
other day when we left a village where we were
billeted for a rest." He proudly adds. "On all
sides the Munsters are being congratulated for
their magnificent behaviour. This is due to the
men's faith ! They are the best conducted battalion
of all the Armies engaged in this world-war, because
they are the most Irish, the most Catholic, and the
most pure."

The 2nd Munsters have been in the thick of the

ASPHYXIATING GAS AND LIQUID FIRE 51

Renting ever since the outbreak of war. Of the men
Who landed in France in August, 1914. there are but
few survivors. The bones of many are mouldering in
tin soil ut France and Flanders. Others are prisoners
at Limburg-an-Lahn in Germany, captured in the
rearguard actions during the retreat from Mons. The
gaps in the ranks have been filled up by other lads
from Limerick, Cork, Kerry and Clare. Always un-
certain are the chances of life, but how strange and
fantastic they sometimes appear ! Who of these boys
ever imagined in 1914 that within a year they
wculd be serving in the British Army, much less
fighting against Germany on the Continent? Fresh
from the towns and villages of Munster, and new to
soldiering and warfare, their racial qualities were put
to the test at Rue de Bois, close to Neuve Chapelle, on
Sunday, May 9th, 1915, when the Third Infantry
Brigade were ordered to attack the trenches that had
been held by the Germans since October. The story
of the fight brings out the services of the chaplain of
the battalion; and the sustaining courage which the
men derive from their religious observances and their
green flags, the embodiment of that ancient Irish in-
spiration—" Faith and Fatherland." I have compiled
my narrative from the accounts written by Mrs.
Victor Rickard, widow of Colonel Rickard, the
officer in command of the regiment, who was killed
gallantly leading his men on that memorable day;
and Sergeant-Major T. J. Leahy, of Monkstown, Co.
Cork, who took part in the engagement. It is worthy
of note that Sergeant-Major Leahy, in an earlier
letter, mentions that he served Mass for the
chaplain, and was known to Father Gleeson as his
"altar boy." He corroborates what Father Gleeson
has written of the high moral conduct of the
battalion by saying, "Prayers more than anything
else console me, and every fellow is the same, so

52 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

the war has been the cause of making- us almost an
army of saints."

In his description of the battle, Sergeant-Major
Leahy states that on the preceding day, Saturday,
May 8th, close on 800 men received Holy Communion
at the hands of Father Gleeson, and wrote their names
and home addresses in their hymn books. When
evening came the regiment moved up to take their
places in the trenches in front of Rue de Bois. "At
the entrance to Rue de Bois," writes Mrs. Rickard,
"there stands a broken shrine, and within the shrine a
crucifix. When the Munsters came up the road,
Major Rickard halted the battalion. The men were
ranged in three sides of a square, their green flags—
a gift from Lady Gordon — placed before each com-
pany. Father Gleeson mounted, Colonel Rickard and
Captain Filgate, the Adjutant, on their chargers, were
in the centre, and in that wonderful twilight Father
Gleeson gave a General Absolution." Sergeant-
Major Leahy supplies other particulars of that
moving scene. "On the lonely, dark roadside," he
says, "lit up now and then by flashes from our own
or German flares, rose to heaven the voices of 800
men, singing that glorious hymn, 1 Hail, Queen of
Heaven.' There were no ribald jests or~courage
buoyed up with alcohol; none of the fanciful pictures
which imagination conjures up of soldiers going to a
desperate charge. No, there were brave hearts without
fear; only hoping that God would bring them through,
and if the end — well, only a little shortened of the
allotted span. Every man had his rosary out, reciting
the prayers, in response to Father Gleeson, just as tf
at the Confraternity at home, instead of having to
face death in a thousand hideous forms the following
morning." He mentions also that after the religious
service Father Gleeson went down the ranks, saying
words of comfort : bidding good-bye to the officers, and

ASPHYXIATING GAS AND LIQUID FIRE 53

telling the men to keep up the honour of the
regiment.

At dawn the German position was bombarded for
seven minutes in order to cut gaps in the barbed-wire
entanglements through which the Munsters might
pass to the enemy's trenches. Then, as Sergeant-
Major Leahy relates, the order was given by the
officers— "Are you ready, lads?" "Yes," came the
response. "Then over the parapet, like one man,
leaped 800 forms, the four green company flags lead-
ing." The intervening plain measured three hundred
yards. It was swept by the close-range fire Of the
Germans, like rain from thunder-clouds. Hundreds
of the Munsters fell in the charge; but "The green
flag was raised on the parapet of the main German
trench, and in they went," says Sergeant-Major
Leahy. Mrs. Rickard states that the regiments on
the left and right, being unable to get near the line
where the Munsters were fighting, the position became
that of a forlorn hope; and the battalion was ordered
to retire. "You were the only battalion attacking
to penetrate and storm the German trenches, although
under a hellish fire," said the Commander of the
lirigade, subsequently addressing the Munsters.
"You have added another laurel to your noble deeds
during the present campaign. I am proud to com-
mand such a gallant regiment." "So the Munsters
came back after their day's work," writes Mrs.
Rickard; "they formed up in the Rue de Bois,
numbering 200 men and three officers." "It seems
almost superfluous to make any further comment,"
she adds. Father Gleeson was in the trenches during
the answering bombardment by the Germans. "It
was terrible," said Private Danaher ; "houses, trees,
and bodies flying in the air. Still, Father Gleeson
stuck to his post attending to the dying Munsters,
and shells dropping all around him. Indeed,

54 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

if anyone has earned the V.C., Father Gleeson
has. He is a credit to the country he hails from,
and has brought luck to the Munsters since he joined
them."

The Liverpool Irish leaped into fame and glory at
the first chance afforded them. That was at Festu-
bert on June 1 6th, 1915. The battalion, then in
reserve, was rushed up to the trenches. A big sur-
prise movement by the French was arranged for that
night, and the Liverpool Irish were to create a diver-
sion by an assault on the enemy's trenches that
fronted them, so as to attract reinforcements to the
spot in the hope that the lines to be attacked by the
French, away to the right, might thereby be weakened.
It was what used to be called "a forlorn hope"
in ancient warfare, such as the storming of a
breach, from which the chance of a safe return was
small, but which, if it did no other good, would
weaken the arm of the enemy in encountering the
main onslaught.

The detachment of the Liverpool Irish selected for
this desperate enterprise had an ideal leader in Captain
Herbert Finegan, dashing, combative, and resolute.
The son of the late Dr. J. H. Finegan, a well-known
Irish physician in Liverpool, he was educated at
Stonvhurst, had a brilliant career at Liverpool Uni-
versity, and, with his uncommon gifts of mind and
tongue, seemed destined for distinction in the law
courts and the House of Commons, when war broke
out and diverted him to a wholly different arena of
activity. He was given charge of the attack. His
company was the first over the parapets. "Come on,
Irish. Show them what we can do!" he cried in his
impetuous way as he thrust forward his head men-
acingly towards the German lines. When the men
were out of the trenches, a sergeant of the company

ASPHYXIATING GAS AND LIQUID FIRE 55

exclaimed, "It's sure death, boys, but remember we
are Irish." He was immediately blown to bits. The
Germans, seeing the movement, met it by scourging
the advancing lines with shell fire.

Lord Wolseley has said that almost every officer
who has led a storming party across the open in full
view of the enemy would acknowledge that his one
anxiety from first to last was, "Will my men follow
me?" Captain Finegan had no misgiving of the
kind. He did not need to look over his shoulder to
see if his men had rallied to his cry. They pressed
round him as he ran across the open, these Liverpool
Irish, most of whom had never seen Ireland, and
yet were as eager to maintain her reputation for
valour as the Irish Guards, the Munsters, the Dublins,
or the Connaught Rangers, born and reared at home.
Capt. Finegan was shot dead at the edge of the
German trenches. Fired by this example, the men
pressed onward, and did not stop or stay even when
they had done what they had set out to do. " It was
a job to make them come back when we got the order
to retire," said one of the officers.

The forlorn hope had unexpectedly blossomed into
a victory. The Liverpool Irish took a German trench
for themselves, along with helping the French to
make a rapid advance which resulted in the capture
of three miles of trenches of the enemy's lines. They
got congratulations on their achievement from the
commander, Sir Henry Rawlinson. Manv of them
shared the fate of their gallant leader. It was a fate
that Capt. Finegan had anticipated. "I will either
go home with the Victoria Cross, or stay here with
a wooden one," he once remarked to Sergeant
MacCabe, of his company.

At Festubert also the 2nd Inniskilling Fusiliers
carried through with complete success an enterprise

56

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

notable for wild daring and stern valour. One attack
on the German trenches had failed. The ground
between the opposing- lines was strewn with the
British dead. A second attack was ordered under
cover of darkness. The 2nd Inniskillings were to
lead the van in the principal sector. In spite of the
pitchy blackness of the night, it was certain that
the German machine-guns and rifles would take heaw
toll before their trenches were reached. But the
Inniskillings mix brains with their bravery. So soon
as night fell, about 8 p.m., they crept over the
parapet, one by one, and squirmed on their stomachs
towards the German lines. Slowly and painfully
they crawled through a sea of mud. from dead
man to dead man, lying quite still whenever
a star-shell lighted up that intervening stretch of 200
yards. By this method, platoon after platoon spread
itself over the corpse-strewn field, until the lead-
ing files were within a few yards of the German
trenches.

Then came the hardest task of all — to lie shoulder
to shoulder with the dead until at midnight a flare
gave the signal, "Up and into the German trenches."
But the Inniskillings held on with steady nerves
through all the alarums of the night. Occasionally
bullets whistled across the waste, and some who had
imitated death needed to pretend no longer. But the
toll was not heavy. At least it was infinitesimal by
comparison with the cost of an open tumultuous charge
from their own trenches. When at last the flash
blazed up the leading platoons were in the German
trenches before the enemy had time to lift their rifles.
The Inniskillings caught the Germans in many cases
actually asleep. Many of the grey-coats woke up just
in time to find British bayonets at their throats. The
entire force was confused and demoralised by this

ASPHYXIATING GAS AND LIQUID FIRE 57

sudden appearance in their trenches of khaki and the
deadly bayonet, and were quickly overthrown. The
Inniskillings paid less for the capture of the first and
second lines of trenches than they might have done
by an open attack for the first alone. They made it
possible for the whole Division to sweep on and to
score a victory where another Division had previously
found defeat.

CHAPTER V

THE IMMORTAL STORY

LANDING OF THE DUBL1NS AND MONSTERS AT THE
DARDANELLES

The most terrific thing in the bombardment of the
southern end of Gallipoli by the British Fleet, from
the yEgean Sea, on Sunday morning, April 25th, 1915,
was the roar of the Queen Elizabeth — the mammoth
vessel of the Navy and armed with the mightiest guns
— sending forth at each bellow and flash a ton of high
explosives. It inspired awe and dread to the utter-
most, that concentration of fire from all the ships of
the Fleet. What living being, or work of nature or
man, could survive it ? Those on the ships who were
searching the peninsula with the most powerful tele-
scopes could see no sign of life. Houses and walls
disappeared, and clouds of sand and earth and smoke
arose where the Turks were supposed to be entrenched.
There was no reply to the cannonade, not even the
crack of a rifle.

The allied Fleets of England and France had failed
to batter open the gates of the Dardanelles from the
sea in March ; and now there was to be an attempt to
invade Gallipoli by making a number of separate but
simultaneous landings of British troops on the

58

THE IMMORTAL STORY 59

southern and western sides of the peninsula. The
object was to seize the Turkish positions defending
the Straits, which was to be followed, if all went well,
by an advance to Constantinople by both land and
sea, and the dictation of terms to the paralysed
Ottoman Empire at St. Sophia. English, Scottish,
Australian, New Zealand, and Indian troops, as well
as Irish, were engaged in this grand enterprise. They
all acquitted themselves nobly, especially the Lan-
cashire regiments, with their very large Irish element;
and the Dominion forces, in which Ireland was also
well represented ; but to the Irish regiments was
allotted what proved to be the most desperate part of
the invasion, as will be found fully admitted in the
official despatches of Sir Ian Hamilton in command
of the Army and Admiral de Robeck of the Navy.
The British troops consisted of the 29th Division
under Major-General Hunter- Weston. In it were
battalions of three Irish regiments, 1st Dublin
Fusiliers, 1st Munster Fusiliers, and 1st Inniskilling
Fusiliers. They had been brought from India and
Burma to England at the outbreak of the war, and
having rested for some months in the Midlands,
around Coventry, left Avonmouth for the Near East
on St. Patrick's Day, 1915.

Along this western side of Gallipoli, washed by the
vEgean Sea, the yellow cliffs of sandstone and clay,
clothed in scrub, seem to rise, in an undeviating line,
clear out of the waters to a height of from two to three
hundred feet. But there are points where the line is
really shoved back, as it were, and here and there,
at these places, flat semicircles of sand lie between
the water and the base of the cliffs. It was on half a
dozen of these small beaches that the troops were to
be landed under the cover of the bombardment by the
Fleet. The Dublins and the Munsters were to land
at " Beach V " immediately below the castle and

6o THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

village of Sedd-el-Bahr, strongest of the Turkish
positions.

In this particular landing very remarkable use was
made of a steamer called the River Clyde, turned into
a troopship. She had about 2,500 troops on board,
all Munsters and Dublins, save two companies of the
Hampshire Regiment, who formed part of the same
brigade, the 86th. So closely packed were the men
that they could scarcely move. The plan was to run
her ashore, full steam ahead, and when she was
beached the troops were to emerge through openings
cut in her sides, on the lower deck, and passing down
narrow gangways make a dash for the shore over a
bridge to be formed of some lighters which accom-
panied her. The River Clyde was beached about 400
yards from the castle of Sedd-el-Bahr, which rose
above the high ground to the right ; and the bridge of
lighters was also successfully run in towards the shore
from the gangways jutting from the improvised doors
in the port and starboard bow of the vessel.

While the preparations were in progress three com-
panies of the Dublins were being brought ashore in
open boats drawn by steam pinnaces, five or six boats
in each tow, and over thirty men in every boat. No
sign had yet been given that any of the enemy were
about on the cliffs and hills, shrouded bv the dust
and smoke caused by the shells of the Fleet : and it
looked almost as if the landing would be unopposed.
But the enemy were there in their thousands, lying
low with rifles and machine-guns. The Turks have
shown on many a field of old their fine fighting quali-
ties. They had been trained in all the newest tricks
of warfare by German officers. They were animated
also by two of the most powerful emotions— defence
of their native land against unbelieving dogs of
Christians; and the firm conviction that death in such
a cause was but the opening of the gates to the

THE IMMORTAL STORY

61

sensuous delights of Paradise. So they were biding
their time, and the hour for action struck when the
boats crowded with the Dublins were about twenty
yards from the shore. The furious reception they
gave to the landing parties was astounding, having
regard to the terrific preliminary bombardment by
the Fleet which had lasted several hours. The Turks
were as readv for the invaders as if the explosives of
the Queen Elizabeth had gone wide of the mark, or
else as if she had contented herself with pelting the
entrenchments with boiled potatoes or roasted
apples.

The scene of the landing was, in configuration, like
an amphitheatre with the beach as a stage. The
beach itself is a strip of powdery sand about three
hundred yards long and ten or twelve yards wide.
Behind it is a steep rising ground of sandstone and
clay grown with prickly scrub. Sir Ian Hamilton
calls it a "death trap." He could not have given
it an uglier nor yet a truer name. Barbed wire
entanglements were cunningly concealed in the
shallows of the foreshore. The Turks were posted
with artillery on the heights, and had sharpshooters
and also machine-guns ensconced in holes made in
the face of the cliff less than a dozen yards from the
sea.

When the picket-boats, or steam pinnaces, got to
within two hundred yards of the shore they cast off ;
and the cutters, with the Dublins, continued ort their
way towards a narrow strip of rock jutting out from
the beach, which made a natural landing-place. Then
it was that the Turks concentrated upon the boats a
most destructive fire of rifles, and machine-guns from
the amphitheatre, and shrapnel from the fort at Sedd-
el-Bahr. The attacking party was practically wiped
out. Only a few passed through this tornado of
lead unscathed. Colonel Rooth, of the Dublins, the

62

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

Adjutant, Captain Higginson, and the chaplain,
Father Finn, were killed. Sergeant J. Colgan, who
was in the boat with these officers, says : — "Only six
of us got away alive out of a boat-load of thirty-two.
One fellow's brains were shot into my mouth as I was
shouting to them to jump for it. I dived into the
sea. Then came the job to swim with my pack, and
one leg useless. I managed to pull out the knife and
cut the straps and swim ashore. All the time bullets
were ripping around me." Here is another individual
experience supplied by a private of the Dublins : — "I
jumped into the sea with my gun, and made towards
the shore. When I got up on the rocky place I had
my first bullet in the side. I felt as if I was struck
with an iron bar in the back. It knocked me down.
I put up my right hand to my head with the pain,
when I got a bullet through that also. I had thus two
narrow escapes. The first bullet just missed my lung
and spine; it made a big hole in my back. The
second one just missed my head."

Extremely rare were such miraculous deliverances
from death. Many of the Dublins who got safely out
of the boats and attempted to swim or wade to the
shore were entangled in the barbed wire and drowned.
The few who reached the shore crawled on their
stomachs, or ran, reeling and staggering, to the
shelter of a narrow ridge of sand, about four feet high,
which fortunately stretched across the beach not far
from the clifT. Most of the boats were destroyed.
Others, with their ghastly loads of dying and dead,
drifted out to sea, where they were picked up by the
Fleet. An officer of the Dublins who was in one of
these boats says: — "Shrapnel burst above our heads
and before I knew where I was I was covered with
dead men. Not knowing they were dead, I was
roaring at them to let me up, for I thought I was
drowning. The guns still played on us till we got

THE IMMORTAL STORY 63

back to a mine-sweeper. I was simply saturated all
over with blood, and I could feel the hot blood all
over me all the way across. When they pulled these
poor fellows off me they were all dead, and the poor
fellows under me were dead also. The boat was
awful to look at, full of blood and water."

Meanwhile the landing of the Munsters from the
River Clyde was about to commence. Three of the
lighters were placed in position to serve as a pier from
the vessel to the shore. They covered but a part of
the distance. Then out of the holes cut in the sides
of the steamer were thrust wooden gangways leading
to the lighters.

The Munsters caught glimpses from the lower deck
of the appalling scenes of tumult and slaughter
attending the landing of the Dublins. They saw the
boats drifting by loaded with the mangled bodies
of their fellow-countrymen. They saw corpses float-
ing on the sea. They saw the waters, as smooth as
glass, turned from blue to crimson. As the Dublins
set out for the shore they cannot have had any ade-
quate conception of the withering tempest of lead that
awaited them. The Munsters witnessed the whole
horrid tragedy. The task before them was every
whit as desperate, and fearsome, and knowledge of its
nature added to its terrors. It was enough to make
the blood curdle in the veins, and fear to clutch at the
heart with an icy grip. Man clings to life
tenaciously. Many of these hitherto gay and irre-
sponsible young Munsters had become very serious,
and their eyes had a deep, inward look as if they were
pondering over some great thing. Were they sad for
their shattered dreams of a safe return to Ireland;
and of a peaceful home life with a girl of blue eyes,
red lips, and black hair as its alluring central figure?
An officer passed among them saying, "Our time has
come, boys, and we must not falter. Remember we

64 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

are Munsters; and, above all, remember Ireland."
The men were thrilled by this double appeal to pride
in their gallant regiment and love for their dear native
land. At the words their spirits mounted high. So
that when it was discovered that one of the gang-
ways had been shot away by a shell, and a delay was
suggested in order to see if it could not be rigged up
again, and one of the officers stepped forward, and
shouted, "Volunteers for the first dash," there was
an instant response, "We are ready, sir." I am told
one of the Munsters made the racy reply : — "Let us at
them, sir; sure it's as aisy a job as we can strike." It
is the way of the Irish to make light of troubles.
"There's nothing so bad but it could be worse," runs
one of their sayings. They will seek to pluck con-
tentment from the most desperate of situations.

The officer stepped through the hole on to the gang-
way, with the men pressing close behind him. At
the moment the bullets were rattling like diabolic
hailstones against the steel sides by which the hull of
the vessel were strengthened. What happened then
is graphically described by Private Timothv Buckley,
of Macroom, County Cork. Lying wounded in a
military hospital in England, he said : —

"The captain of my company asked for 200 volunteers, and
as I was in his company I volunteered. We got ready inside
on the deck, and opened the buckles of our equipment, so that
every man might have a chance of saving himself if he fell
into the water. He gave the order to fix bayonets when we
should get ashore. He then led the way, but fell immediately
at the foot of the gangway. The next man jumped over him,
and kept going until he fell on the pontoon bridge. Altogether
149 men were killed outright and 30 wounded. I was about
the twenty-seventh man out. I stood counting them as they
were going through. It was then I thought of peaceful
Macroom, and wondered if I should ever see it again. When
my turn came I was wiser than some of my comrades. The
moment I stood on the gangway I jumped over the rope on
to the pontoon. Two more did the same, and I was already

THE IMMORTAL STORY 65'

flat on the bridge. Those two chaps were at each side of me,
but not for long, as the shrapnel was bursting all around. I
was talking to the chap on my left, and saw a lump of lead
enter his temple. 1 turned to the chap on my right. His
name was Fitzgerald. He was from Cork, but soon he was
over the border. The one piece of shrapnel had done the job
for the two."

Thus men in khaki poured out of the side of the
River Clyde and raced down the gangway or jumped
from it at once on to the first lighter. Two men out
of every three fell. The commanding officer of the
Munsters, Colonel Monck-Mason, was wounded and
put out of action early in the proceedings. Soon the
first and second lighters were piled high with wounded
and dead, twisted into all sorts of horrid shapes, and
the men who escaped being instantly shot were to be
seen stepping and jumping and even walking over
the bodies of their fallen comrades. Many of these
flung up their arms, spun round, and, with a cry of
agony, went splash into the sea never to rise again.
Then the horrors of the situation were added to by
a most unfortunate mishap. The lighter nearest to the
beach gave way in the current and drifted backward
into deep water. The men in it jumped out in the
hope of being able to swim and wade to the shore.
Most of them were drowned by the weight of their
equipment. But the Munsters never quailed. All the
time they continued emerging from the River Clyde,
in an unbroken stream, two men out of every three
still dropping on the gangway or on the bridge, and
the survivors still pressing forward with their faces
dauntlessly set for the land. Those who got to the
shore rushed to join the Dublins under the scanty
cover afforded bv the low sandy escarpment. The
p ■ 1 n Munsters to £ain the beach was Sergeant
t atnck Rvan. He swam ashore in his full kit; and
got the Distinguished Conduct Medal for "showing

66 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

under heavy fire the greatest coolness and powers of
leadership."

Mr. H. W. Nivenson, one of the newspaper corre-
spondents with the Mediterranean Expeditionary
Force, mentioned in a lecture on the operations which
he delivered in London, that he and others saw the
landing through their glasses from a ship some miles
out at sea. One of the party, seeing the men who had
landed dropping on the beach, and not understanding
the tragic nature of the scene, remarked to Mr.
Nivenson : "Why are our men resting? " The beach
was, in fact, strewn with maimed men, or men on
whose sufferings the oblivion of death had mercifully
fallen. Pinnaces which had towed the boats of the
Dublins hung about picking up the dead and wounded
from the sea, and members of their crews heroically
landed on the beach to carry off the disabled living.
Officers and bluejackets suffered death while engaged
on this work of mercy. Consequently most of the
wounded could only be removed when it was dark.
They lay on the beach all day, in the hot sand under
the broiling sun, in agonies of pain and thirst, till
nine o'clock at night. Surgeon Barrett, of the Royal
Navy, a Cork man, who was on the River Clyde,
says : — "I had some of the wounded back on board —
chaps whom I had seen half an hour before well and
strong — now wrecks for 1 FTe. It was awful. They
were very cheery and dying to be back again at the
Turks. It was very strange. I would see a poor
chap dying, and asking him where he came from, the
answer would be ' Blarney Street, Cork ' ; another
' Main Street,' and one poor sergeant, who had five
bayonet wounds in his stomach, came from ' Warren's
Place.' He died that night, and was cheery to the
last. They are fine fellows, and won the admiration
of everyone." Surgeon Peter Burrows, R.N., another
Irishman, though severely wounded, remained on the

THE IMMORTAL STORY

67

River Clyde until April 27th, succouring the injured.
He attended to 750 disabled men while suffering- great
pain himself, and being quite incapable of walking
during the last twenty-four hours of his continuous
duty. The Distinguished Service Order was given
to Surgeon Burrows.

Altogether more than ^,000 men had left the River
Clyde by 11 o'clock in the morning. Two-thirds of
them had been shot dead, drowned, or wounded. The
landing was then discontinued. It was resumed under
the shelter of darkness, when, strange to say, the
1,000 men remaining on the River Clyde got ashore
without a single casualty. In fact not a shot was
fired against them. But before they were landed a
night attack was made by the Turks on the remnants
of the Dublins and Munsters crouching on the beach
under the protection of the bank. Lieutenant Henry
Desmond O'Hara, of the Dublins, took command,
all the senior officers having been killed and wounded.
He was awarded the Distinguished Service Order and
promoted to be captain for his initiative and resource
in restoring the line when it had been broken by the
Turks, and organising a successful counter-attack
which caused great loss to the enemy. Captain
O'Hara died soon afterwards of wounds received in
action. He was the only son of Mr. W. J. O'Hara,
resident magistrate, Ballincollig, Co. Cork, and a
nephew of Dr. O'Hara, Bishop of Cashel.

In the morning an assault was made upon the fort
and village on the heights. The Dublins advanced,
with the Munsters on their right and the Hampshires
on their left. Through the prickly scrub or brush-
wood of the hill ran three lines of trenches and a net-
work of entanglements made of barbed wire of an
unusually strong and vicious kind. Out of these
entrenchments the machine-guns poured a devastating
stream of lead. To attack such a position seemed

68 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

almost to match in madness the landing (if the day
before. 1 do not think there is any sound of battle
more appalling to the soldier who has to face it 1 1 *a n
the devil's tattoo of the machine-gun sending forth
its six hundred bullets by the minute. " It was up the
hill and back again, up and back," writes a Kildare
man in the Dublins, "till we began to wonder if the
Turks would not drive us into the sea." Lord
Wolseley said that one of the most difficult things for
an officer to do is to induce a line of men who, during
an advance under fire, have found some temporary
haven or shelter, or have lain down, perhaps, to take
breath, to rise up together and dash forward in a body
upon the enemy's position. Here, however, there
were deeds of bravery of the highest order. Corporal
William Cosgrave got the V.C. for pulling down,
single-handed, the posts of the high wire entangle-
ments. In order to give encouragement to his men
Sergeant C. Cooney, of the Dublins— afterwards
awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal— freely
exposed himself in the open, though the Turks were
lying within seventy yards of him. This conspicuous
contempt of danger had the effect the gallant sergeant
desired. The men charged with a daring and fury
that swept the Turks out of the trenches, at the point
of the bayonet, and had them back in the village by
to o'clock. In the streets the Irish were held in check
for hours and suffered more heavy losses from the
fire of the Turks stronglv posted and concealed in the
ruins of the houses. But at noon the final rush was
made, and the Munsters and Dublins stood triumphant
within the captured fort. Most of the Turks had
retired during the last stages of the attack: but in the
fort were captured 200 of the enemy with several
machine-trims. The first man to enter the fort was a
Dublin Fusilier, Private T. Cullen, who <_Tot the Dis-
tinguished Conduct Medal for conspicuous gallantry.

THE IMMORTAL STORY

69

The landing at "Beach V," Gallipoli, is one of the
most terrible ;mcl heroic episodes to be found in the
annals of the British Army. The Turks and the
Germans were amazed at its audacity and mad reck-
lessness. By all the rules of war it was doomed to
disastrous failure. Von der Goltz, the German
General, who designed the defences, boasted that the
landing was impossible. It succeeded because of the
unconquerable bravery, determination, and self-
sacrifice of the troops. Yet the part taken by the Irish
regiments is meanly ignored altogether by Admiral
de Robeck, and but scantily recorded by Sir Ian
Hamilton. Ten lines to the Dublins; less than
twenty to the Munsters! How inadequate and bald
the account of the General appears in the light of the
full immortal story ! But tributes to the magnificent
bravery of the Irish have been paid by others. Major-
General Hunter- Weston, commanding the 20th
Division, made a stirring speech . to the 1st Dublin
Fusiliers on their relief from the firing line after
fifteen days of continuous fighting. "Well done,
Blue Caps!" he cried. The Dublins are known as
"Blue Caps." During the Indian Mutiny a despatch
of Nana Sahib was intercepted in which he referred
to those "blue-capped English soldiers that fought
like devils." These were the predecessors of the
Dublins.

"Well done, Blue Caps!" said General Hunter-
Weston, " I now take the first opportunity of thanking
you for the good work you have done. You have
achieved the impossible. You have done a thing
which will live in history. When I first visited this
place with other people of importance, we all thought
a landing would never be made, but you did it, and
therefore the impossibilities were overcome — and it
was done by men of real and true British fighting
blood. You captured the fort and village on the right

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

that were simply swarmed with Turks with machine-
guns, also the hill on the left, where the pom-poms
were. Also the amphitheatre in front, which was dug
line for line with trenches, and from where there came
a terrific rifle and machine-gun fire. You are indeed
deserving of the highest praise. I am proud to be
in command of such a distinguished regiment, and I
only hope, when you return to the firing line after this
rest (which you have well earned), that you will make
even a greater name for yourselves. Well done, the
Dubs ! Your deeds will live in history for time
immortal. Farewell."

Brigadier-General W. B. Marshal, of the 2Qth Divi-
sion, writing in November, 191 5, to his friend Mr.
James O'Regan, Grand Parade, Cork, says: — "I am
now one of the very few survivors of those who landed
with the 29th Division on April 25th, 191 5. Nearly
all the rest have been killed, wounded, or invalided,
so that I may count myself very lucky after eight
months of strenuous work, I should be glad of a
change." He adds some very striking passages: —
"Though I am an Englishman, I must sav the Irish
soldiers have fought magnificently. They are the
cream of the Army. Ireland may well be proud of
her sons. Ireland has done her duty nobly. Irish-
men are absolutely indispensable for our final triumph.
If I am spared to return at the end of the war I shall
make my future home in ' Dear Old Ireland,' which
has always had a warm corner in my heart, for in no
part of the world have I met more generous, warm-
hearted, or braver people than in the Emerald Isle."
Trooper Brennan, of the Australian Light Horse,
writing from Anzac to his father in Kilkenny, says
he received an account of the Landing of the Dublins
and Munsters from men of the Royal Scots; and goes
on to make this comment: — "Somehow, it's a funny
thing how nearly every account of an Irish regiment's

THE IMMORTAL STORY

7i

prowess comes from a Scotchman — I remember it was
a Highlander who told of the Munsters at iYIons. At
any rate, I tried to get some particulars from a few of
the Dublins and Munsters themselves, and I failed
miserably. They were all talking of poor Johnny this
and that who got shot, or Paddy something-or-other,
or the bad water, or the failure of the rum issue, so I
came to the conclusion that an Irishman's fighting is
somewhat like his temper or dislikes — no sooner
dispensed with than forgotten."

Here, sure enough, is a Scot who was at Gallipoli,
and saw the landing, writing in glowing terms of the
Irish in a letter published in January, 1916, by The
Tablet, who took it from a Scottish paper : —

" I am astonished that Glasgow folks — and I have met quite
a number since my return from that ' hell ' out there — seem
to be unaware of the extraordinary bravery which was displayed
by the Irish soldiers, especially the Munsters and the Dublins.
As you know, 1 am not Irish, and have no Irish connections
whatever— in fact, I was rather opposed to the granting of
Home Rule; but now, speaking honestly and calmly, after
having witnessed what I did — the unparalleled heroism of
these Irishmen — I say nothing is too good to give the country
of which they are or rather were, such worthy representatives.

" My God, it was grand ! It filled one with admiration and
envy ; because certainly no soldiers could show greater daring
and bravery than these fine boys did in face of an awful fire
and destruction. Aye, the race that can produce such men,
supermen, as those chaps were, to do such glorious work for
the Empire has the most perfect right to demand and, what is
more, to get the freedom of its country and the right to rule it.
Yes, it is but the merest truth to s'ate that there would be
no Dardanelles campaign heard of to-day if it had not been
for the extraordinary services of these Irish troops, white men
every one, and I have no doubt but that God has taken them
to Himself."

The Scottish soldier then goes on to bear remark-
able testimony to the deep religious fervour of the
Irish troops : —

72

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

" Oh, but they deserve a rich reward ! What surprises me
is that the papers have not been full of their praises. I would
have expected that it would have been made widely known
that the Irish boys h^d at least saved the situation and dis-
played a bravery the like of which was never equalled. It is
a shame and a scandal, because I can tell you there is not a
man in the Service who is aware of the great gallantry but
who would willingly do anything now for the Irish people —
yes, the Irish Catholics. I have no religion, but it was most
charming and edifying to see these fine chaps with their beads
and the way in which they prayed to God. We are all brothers,
but to my dying day I bow to the Irish."

Manv an Irish home was made desolate. Ireland
mourned for her young- men ; but there is an uplifting-
sorrow, the sorrow that is mingled with pride, and
of that kind was the sorrow of Ireland.

CHAPTER VI

THE ioth IRISH DIVISION IN GALLIPOLI

LANDING AT SUVLA BAY, AND CAPTURE OF CHOCOLATE

HILL

At the dawn of Saturday morning, August 7th,
1915, the JEgean Sea and the Gulf of Saros, to the
north-west of Gallipoli, were swarming with the most
variegated collection of shipping, of all sorts and
conditions — transports, cruisers, torpedo-boat de-
stroyers, trawlers, barges, ocean liners, steam pin-
naces, rowing boats, and tramp steamers. A fresh
landing, at Suvla Bay, had been in progress all
through the night. The first great landing, on April
25th, at Sedd-el-Bahr, at the toe of the Peninsula —
in which the first battalions of the Dublin and
Munster Fusiliers won imperishable renown — had
secured a foothold in Gallipoli, but the hills and forts
which guarded the passage up the Dardanelles to
Constantinople, on the east, were still held by the
Turks. Now a new and stupendous effort was about
to be made to break the enemy's grip on the
Peninsula.

The date, August 7th, 1915, should be ever memor-
able in the history of Ireland, and also in that of the

71 D*

74

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

whole United Kingdom. On that day a Division
of the New Armies raised for the war — "Kitchener's
Armies," as they are popularly called — was brought
under fire for the first time, and collectively engaged
in battle. These citizen soldiers were Irish. Irish
professional soldiers have always fought most
gallantly for England in all her wars. But on that
day, for the first time in the long and embittered
relations between England and Ireland, a distinc-
tively Irish Division (the ioth), voluntarily raised
in Ireland and composed of 20,000 young men of
fine character and high purpose, representative
particularly of the Nationalist and Catholic sec-
tions of the community, were found on the side of
England.

The ioth Irish Division was formed in the autumn
and winter months of 1914. They left Ireland at the
end of April, -1915, to complete their training in the
great camp of Aldershot. At the end of June they
embarked from England as part of the Mediterranean
Expeditionary Foroe. On Friday evening, August
6th, they parted from the olive groves and vineyards
of beautiful islands in the rEgean, off the coast of
Asia Minor, where they had been stationed a couple
of weeks, and were brought up to Gallipoli. Here,
then, were clerks from offices and counting houses,
assistants from drapery and grocery shops, civil
servants, public school boys, artisans, labourers,
farm hands — a heterogeneous collection of youths
from all walks in life — and officered chiefly by
barristers, solicitors, engineers, and University
Students, who had only been a few months in
training, and who before this call to arms sud-
denly rang through the Empire, seemed destined
for peaceful and secure careers in civil life. Now,
within a few hours of hearing, for the first time in
their lives, a shot fired in anger, they were to be

TENTH IRISH DIVISION IN GALLIPOLI 75

plunged right into the fiery and bloody whirlpool
of war.

Gallipoli, as it looked from the decks of the troop-
ships, even in the wonderful dawn of that August
Saturday morning, had a mysterious and sinister
appearance. The men saw yellow clayey cliffs, rising
almost sheer from intensely blue water, and beyond
these a huddle of pointed and desolate hills, to which
no access seemed visible To their right they could
see Achi Baba — a head and shoulders, with two arms
extending on each side to the sea — dominating the
end of the Peninsula, like a Chinese idol, inscrutable,
and disdainful of the shells from the battleships
which raised clouds of smoke and dust about its face.
The general objective of all the troops engaged in
this new enterprise — English, Scotch, and Welsh
Territorials, as well as the Irish Division of the new
Armies— was the capture of the Anafarta Hills, a
network of ravines and jungles to the north of
the high mountain of Sari Bair, the key of the
situation in this upper part of the Peninsula. The
Australians, New Zealanders, and Maoris had
been attacking Sari Bair since dark on Friday
night, from their position at Anzac, lower down the
Peninsula.

The 10th Division was wholly Irish, save for one
English battalion, the 10th Hampshire Regiment.
The 29th Brigade, composed of the 5th Connaught
Rangers, 6th Leinsters, 6th Irish Rifles, and the 10th
Hampshires, was detached from the Division, and
landed at Anzac, to co-operate with the Dominion
l-orces. But the other two Brigades were entirely
Irish. These were the 30th, consisting of the 6th
7th Dublin Fusiliers, 6th and 7th Munster
Fusiliers; and the 31st, consisting of the 5th and 6th
nniskilling Fusiliers, and the 5th and 6th Irish
Fusiliers. In addition, there was the Pioneer Regi-

76 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

ment, the 5th Royal Irish Regiment (Colonel, the
Earl of Granard, K.P.). the purpose of which was to
facilitate the progress of the troops by removing
obstructions, but which also took part in the fighting.
These two Brigades had orders to clear the Turks
out of the heights of Karakol Dagh, a long ridge
fronting the Gulf of Saros, to the north; and to take
a particular hill a few miles to the south, about three
or four miles inland from Suvla Bay. This hill is
known to the Turks as Yilghin Burnu. It was called
Chocolate Hill by the invading army as part of its
surface had been burnt a dull brown by shell fire.
The Division was under the command of General
Sir Bryan Mahon, a Galway man, who saw much
service in Egypt and the Soudan, and in the South
African War led the column which relieved
Maf eking.

In a way, it is a pity that things were not so
arranged as to have brought these unseasoned and
unhardened Irish troops gradually to the great and
searching test of war, that they were not afforded the
opportunity of feeling the land of the foe under their
feet, and becoming somewhat familiar with its extra-
ordinary geographical conditions and climate, before
they had to rush into battle. In warfare all that de-
pends, usually, upon unforeseen circumstances, and
the chance disposition of the forces. But it may have
happened by special direction in this case; and.Jf so,
it was a compliment to the 10th Division. "It is
true they are new and untried, but they are Irish,"
it was probably said at Headquarters, "and being
Irish, thev may be relied upon, however hard and
tough their job." In any case, both Brigades were
successful in the enterprises to which they were
set.

The disembarkation was carried out under fire from
the Turkish batteries on the hills. The men were

TENTH IRISH DIVISION IN GALLIPOLI 77

taken from the transports in steam-driven barges,
and though the barges had sheltering sides of steel,
several men were killed and wounded by exploding
shells even before they reached the shore. Half of
the 301 h Brigade, consisting of the two battalions of
the Munsters, to whom was allotted the task of
capturing Karakol Dagh, were landed to the north
of Suvla Bav, just under the ridge. "How I wish
that their fathers and mothers could know more of
how these brave fellows fought and died ! " writes
the Commanding Officer of one of the Munster bat-
talions in a letter to his relatives. "They, alas! for
the most part just see the names of their dear ones
in a casualty list, and can learn nothing further. The
beach on which we landed was sown with contact
mines, and as we crossed it to form up under cover
of a small hill, many a poor chap was blown to bits
— not very encouraging for those approaching in other
boats. But they never wavered, but landed, and
formed up as quietly and steadily as they used to do
on the parade ground at the Curragh. I asked one
poor chap who was slightly injured how he had got
through, and he said, ' All I could think of, sir, was
how anxious you must be to see how we would
behave.' That is the spirit that one likes to see in
a battalion."

The landing place of the other half of the 30th
Brigade, the 6th and 7th Dublins, with the Innis-
killings and the Irish Fusiliers, was to the south of
Suvla Bay, at Niebruniessi Point, under the hill,
Lala Baba. The men climbed the cliffs to the sand
dunes. Leaving their packs behind them, they
carried nothing but what was absolutely necessary —
a rifle and 200 rounds of ammunition per man, a water
bottle, and rations for two days in a bag, consisting
of two tins of bully beef, tea, sugar, biscuits, and
tablets of compressed meat. Thus equipped, with

78

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

loosened girths and wearing their big brown sun-
helmets, the troops advanced in eight or ten long
lines, with two paces between each man. The 7th
Dublins, the famous "Pals," flower of the youth
of Dublin, were in the van. Colonel Geoffrey
Downing, in command of the 7th Dublins, as
the senior colonel of the battalions in the attacking
line, got a message from Headquarters that it
was imperative that Chocolate Hill should be taken
before sunset. His reply was: "It shall be
done."

As the crow flies Chocolate Hill is no more than
four miles from the sea line. But to reach it the Irish
troops had to make a wide enveloping movement, so
"that the ground actually covered in the advance was
from ten to twelve miles. To the north of the point
where the landing took place is a long and broad but
shallow lagoon, called Salt Lake. The intense
summer heat had dried it up and turned its bottom
into a flat stretch of sand and dust, covered with a
slight crust of salt which glistened in the sun. The
Trish troops first proceeded a considerable distance
ahead between the sea and Salt Lake, moving thereby
parallel to Chocolate Hill, which lies east of the lake.
At one point they had to pass over a long spit of
sand, not twenty yards wide, that divided the sea and
Salt Lake. The enemy had its exact range. Many a
man was brought down as he attempted to cross it at
a run. Then Colonel Downing, of the 7th Dublins,
came upon the scene. He paused, lit a cigarette, and
walked over the narrow ridge as coolly as if he were
doing Grafton Street, Dublin. After this experience
the troops wheeled to the right, and marching south-
east across Salt Lake faced the rear flank of their
objective.

Crossing Salt Lake in the open, they presented a
clear target to the enemy, and were raked with

TENTH IRISH DIVISION IN GALLIPOLI 79

machine-gun fire, shrapnel and high-explosive shells.
It is an ordeal that strains to the uttermost all the
physical and mental qualities. One of the most
common experiences of men who go through it for
the first time is a distracting indecision whether to
advance, halt, or retreat. But the successive lines
went steadily on in short rushes, the men falling on
their stomachs between each rush. There was no
shelter. The expanse was unbroken even by a rock.
The men sank almost to their knees in the soft sand.
Very heavy, slow and tiring was the going. All
l lie time Turkish explosives were bursting on every
side, and comrades were dropping out of the ranks
killed or disabled. One instance will show the steadi-
ness and resolution of the troops. A shell burst in
the middle of a platoon that was marching in rather
close formation. Five men were blown to pieces.
The platoon opened out and continued their advance.
High over their heads the shells from the British
cruisers and monitors out at sea went shrieking on
their way to find the Turks. The land seemed to
tremble with the din and vibration caused by this
long-range artillery duel. The men were bodily
shaken. But they were also greatly heartened to see,
now and then, clouds of earth thrown into the air,
telling how the explosive shells from the ships were
rending the entrenchments behind which the enemy
lay concealed.

After this ordeal in the open sandy plain, the Irish
reached a totally different kind of country — an in-
extricable jumble of hills and cullies, strewn with
boulders, overgrown with a thick prickly scrub, and
wholly trackless. Here some shelter was afforded
from the high explosives of the Turks, but not from
1 heir machine-guns and rifles, and the progress was
still more slow and difficult. The nature of the
coimtrv gave a tremendous superiority to the enemy, on

So THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

the defensive behind their entrenchments. What a
hopeless, heart-breaking task it seemed to get free of
this entanglement of rocks and scrub, which tore the
clothes and lacerated the flesh, and force a way up
these steep hills, on hands and feet to the Turkish
positions. Men were falling on all sides. How soon
would the end of the fiery furnace be reached?
Would anyone get safely through ? Such were the
thoughts that occupied the mind of many a man,
expecting that the next bullet or shell would strike
him down. The battalions were broken up into un-
related sections, or else were mixed together. The
nature of the ground, the gullies and ravines, the
scrub and the rocks, split them up into fragments,
each with its independent command. This kind of
fighting was quite to the liking of the Irish troops.
It gave play to individual personal courage and
qualities of leadership.

What they all desired was to get into close grips
with the Turks. How they hungered for the wild
exultation of the bayonet charge, the shock of man
to man in deadly encounter, the pursuit of a van-
quished foe ! The evening was well advanced before
the end came in sight. Major Harrison gallantly led
the 7th Dublins and men of other units in the final
attack. "Fix bayonets, Dublins, and let's make a
name for ourselves," was his cry. The hill had not
only natural advantages for defence in rocks, scrub,
and trees. It was also a network of trenches. From
behind this double cover the Turks threw hand
grenades at the Irish, now approaching with a rush
and veiling fiercely. Soon they got a taste of
bayonet and clubbed rifle administered by Irish
hands. The Turks are brave fighters, but they
quailed before the Irish onslaught and sought safety
from it in precipitate flight. At half-past 7 o'clock,
just as it was growing dark, Chocolate Hill was taken.

TENTH IRISH DIVISION IN GALLIPOLI 81

There is some dispute, I understand, between the
Dublins and Inniskillings and Irish Fusiliers as to
which battalion the men first in the Turkish trenches
belonged. But does it really matter? Are they not
all Irish ? Probably men of all the battalions were
in the last overwhelming rush. There is no doubt
that the Dublins get most of the credit for the feat.
The battalion was specially complimented by Head-
quarters for their heroism and endurance. And well
they deserved it. What a baptism of fire it was for
those inexperienced Irish lads! And what a con-
firmation of suffering. Over ten hours of continuous
open fighting against machine-guns and artillery, and
on a day of scorching heat! "We have gained a
great name for the capture, and for the splendid regi-
ment which I have the honour to command," says
Colonel Downing. The General of the Division, Sir
Bryan Mahon, speaking of all the battalions, said
he had never seen better work by infantry. The fact
that the hill was widely known afterwards among the
troops in Gallipoli as "Dublin Hill" tells its own
tale.

But there is another side to war, and tragic though
it be, it must not be ignored, even now that the victory
has been won. At the last phase of the fight the hills
and ravines were flooded with crimson and purple and
yellow, as the sun, in regal splendour, went down
into the western sea. Those vivid colours were
appropriate to the scene — the raging hearts of the
opposing forces of men engaged in a death-grapple,
the bitter humiliation of the defeated, and the glory
of the victor's triumph. Then the night fell and the
tlarkness was softly lit by a multitude of stars in a
cloudless and almost blue sky. It seemed to speak
most soothingly to the exhausted men of peace,
silence, tranquillity, and the lapping coolness of
running streams. Oh, to be able to get away from

82

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

this terrific din, this intimate contact with throngs of
fellow-men, these devilish instruments of death
hurtling through the air— away into loneliness and
quietude, only for a little while. But there was no
respite. The enemy were still close at hand. It
would be dangerous to succumb to the almost irre-
sistible inclination to lie down and sleep. There
might come at any moment a counter attack by the
enemy. Most of the men, therefore, had to "stand
to arms" through the night.

The wounded had also to be attended to. Some of
them, totally disabled, had lain where they fell, out
on the open sandy plain under the burning sun.
They were 'tortured by thirst. As their comrades in
the reserve lines passed them by they could be heard
moaning in pain, calling for mother or wife, craving
for a drink to moisten their parched mouths. It was
forbidden the men to fall out of the lines for the
purpose of succouring the wounded. That is the duty
of the stretcher-bearers, following behind, and to
them, the orders are, it must be left. But the ioth
Division were new soldiers, and humanity had not
been quite suppressed by discipline in the ranks. The
cry of stricken comrnde was irresistible. "Water; a
drop of water for the Blessed Virgin's sake," they
gasped, with mouths open and eyes starting from
their heads, as if startled by the sight of something
dreadful. So the men stopped for a minute to put a
water-bottle to the lips of a mangled friend ; and often
the murmured thanks stiffened out into rigidity and
silence.

Some of the wounded succeeded in crawling into
the rocky gullies. Others lay in the thickets of
scrub. They were sheltered from the fierce rays of
the sun, but were in danger of the equally terrible
fate of death by burning. On every side, throughout
the day. fires were blazing. The dry scrub and

TENTH IRISH DIVISION IN GALLIPOLI 83

bushes were set alight by petrol bombs. As a line of
the Inniskilling Fusiliers were moving forward be-
hind the Dublinc, news was brought to them that
there were some wounded men in an extensive patch
of scrub that had just caught fire. Signaller John
Wilkinson and another member of the battalion
plunged into the thick smoke and brought out seven
men. There was a burst of shrapnel, and Wilkinson,
at the crowning point of his noble display of
humanity, was killed.

When the wounded were brought down to the beach
for conveyance in lighters and mine-sweepers to the
hospital ships anchored about a mile and a half from
the shore, the dead awaited reverent disposal. Of
all the tasks that had to be performed that night in
the starlight this was the pitifulest and most poignant.
They were buried side by side, at the foot of Dublin
Hill. With the death of these young lads in Galli-
poli the light went out in many a home in far away
Ireland. Mothers were weeping in sorrow and dis-
consolation. The country was torn by the conflicting
emotions of pride in her sons and grief for their loss.
It can be truly said that these young Irishmen gave
their lives for civilisation and the freedom of
Nationalities. But the immediate inspiration of their
bravery was love of Ireland, and the resolve which
sprang from it, that there should be no occasion for
a word to be spoken in prejudice of the fighting quali-
ties of the race, of the valour which Irish regiments
have displayed on the battlefield at all times and in
every clime.

CHAPTER VII

IN THE REST CAMP

HOW THE LEINSTERS CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF THE

NARROWS

For five days and nights the Irish troops who took
Chocolate Hill, or Dublin Hill, on Saturday, August
7th, lay in the captur d Turkish entrenchments before
they could be relieved. The men were in the highest
spirits over their exploit. But they felt stiff and
sore and very, very dirt\. They had sand in their
clothes, sand in their hair, sand in their eyes, sand
in their mouths and nostrils, and their faces and
hands were black with the grime of powder and the
smoke of the bush fires. And now, upon all that,
they had to endure the particular discomforts and
hardships which attend a campaign in a dry and
torrid land.

The greatest trouble arose from the scarcity of fresh
water to mitigate the tropical heat. The wells were
few and far between, and being within range of the
Turkish guns, were, all of them, constantly shelled.
The quantity of water that could be brought to
Dublin Hill was totally inadequate to satisfy the
demand. The supply was strictly reserved for
drinking purposes. Water was too scarce and
precious to be wasted on personal ablutions. Better
a filthy face than a parched mouth. The dirtiest

IN THE REST CAMP 85

water was drunk with a relish. A Dublin Fusilier
Biehed for a draught of the cool and crystal water
from the Wicklow hills. " Vartry water, exclaimed
another; "I'd be quite content with a bucketful from
fhe Liffey, even off the North Wall." Food was
also hard to get. The commissariat had not yet been
evolved out of the disorganisation attendant upon the
landing. Under such a scorching sun the eating ot
the bully-beef in the men's ration bags was unthink-
able So their meals consisted chiefly of biscuits.
Then there was the pest of myriads of flies. 1 he
Gallipoli flies were having the time of the life-history
of their species. Big, ferocious, and insatiable free-
booters, they would not be denied joining the troops
at their meals and getting the bigger share of the
scanty rations into the bargain. The worst affliction
of all, however, was the stench of the half-buried and
rapidly decomposing corpses in the captured trenches.

During the week which thus elapsed between the
capture of Chocolate Hill and the still fiercer series
of battles for the heights of Kiretsh Tepe Sirt, to the
north, and of Sari Bair, to the south, which were to
follow, regiments of the Irish Division were con-
stantly engaged with the enemy on the foothills.
Sari Bair was the strongest strategical position of
the Turks in this part of Gallipoli. Like Achi Baba,
towards the lower end of the Peninsula, it commands
the Dardanelles, and especially the great military
road along the shore of the Straits, over which the
Turks were enabled quickly to send reinforcements
of men, munitions, and stores from one point to
another. One Irish Battalion actually gained a point
on Sari Bair, from which they caught a glimpse of
the Dardanelles. This was the 6th Royal I.einster
Regiment of the 29th Brigade, which, as I have
already mentioned, was separated from the 10th
Division and sent south to co-operate with the forces
from the Dominions. On Monday, August oth, a

86 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

party of New Zealanders had fought their wav
to a ridge of Sari Bair, but were Enable to hold T-
and as hey came retreating down to the place whe «
the 6th Leinsters were in reserve, they shouted-
Fx yoUr bayonets, lads; they're coming over the
"11. Sergeant-Ma or T. Ouinlan, of the Leinsters
lying wounded in hospital, tells the story. ''Every:
one ran for his rifle and* fixed his bayonet picked
"P f, b^«* or two of ammunition, ^nd'c farmed
up the lull like a pack of deers, some without boots
pr jackets. I bet you the Turks never ran so muck
m their lives, for our rifle fire and plunging bayonets
as we charged were too much for them to^tand
We regained the lost position in almost twenty
minutes." And down below them, to the east they
rould see that narrow ribbon of water which was the

Snil l US HOrrib,e kilUn&-the Dardanelles
glistening in the sun.

cLhZP?Shl??u hdd by the Irish re?iments around
Chocolate Hi 11 were regularly bombarded. On
August 9th Lieutenant D. R. Clery, of the 6th Dublins
(a fine young Dubhn man, very popular as a foot-
baler), was missed. Captain J. J. Carroll, of the
battalion, writing to a relative, says: "I know that
he was in the very front of the firing line on August
otn, and one of our men told me on the ship coming
home of Dan's magnificent conduct in carrying man
after man out of danger. The man I refer to said
that in saving others Dan had seemed utterly regard-
less of danger to himself." It was also in one of
these outbursts of Turkish artillery that on Tuesdav
August loth, Captain James Cecil Johnston, Adjutant
of the 6th Royal Irish Fusiliers, was killed. Before
(he war Captain Johnston— a County Fermanagh
man— was Master of the Horse to the Lord Lieu-
tenant of Ireland. Second Lieutenant R. S. Trimble,
who was wounded on the same occasion, describes
ill'' incident in a letter to his father, Mr. W. Copeland

IN THE REST CAMP

87

Trimble, of Fermanagh. He was standing between
his Colonel and his Adjutant in conversation when a
shell came along. It tore the Colonel's arm to
pulp, and though it passed Mr. Trimble, who
was slightly out of the line of fire, the concussion of
it dashed him violently to the ground, and then ex-
ploding, it blew' Captain Johnston literally to pieces.

The' Irish troops were greatly harassed by the
enemy's sharpshooters. These snipers assumed all
sorts of disguises and occupied every conceivable
hiding place— up in the dwarf oak trees, lying prone
in the scrub thickets, down in the rocks of the gullies
—so that it was very difficult to spot them. Among
those discovered was a peasant woman — the wife of
a Turkish soldier — who lived with her old mother
and her child in a little house near the Irish lines.
She was a fine shot, and apparently confined her
attention to stragglers, whose bodies she rifled ; for
several identification discs and a large sum of money
were found in her possession. The daring and
resource of the sharpshooters made them a deadly
peril. One man caught in a tree wore a head
covering and cloak formed of leaves. Another was
found in a khaki uniform, stripped from a dead
British soldier. The most perplexing feature of the
sniping was that shots often came from the scrub
behind. One of the victims of these tactics was
Lieutenant E. M. Harper, of the 7th Royal Munster
Fusiliers, who, while advancing with his company on
August oth, fell from a rifle shot fired from the rear.

The men of all the Irish battalions suffered from
this game of hide-and-seek with death as they lay
in the trenches on Dublin Hill. Relief came to them
in the early hours of the morning of Friday, August
1 1th. They left at 1 ..10, and marched seven miles
to a rest camp in a gullv of Karakol Dagh running
down to the Gulf of Saros, which they reached at
4.30, and a footsore, sleepy, haggard, unkempt,

88

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

bedraggled, hairy, unwashed, and unshaven crowd
they were. I hey cwed this bivouac to the success
of the Munsters and Royal Irish Regiment in ex-
pelling the Turks from part of the ridge. When
dismissed in the camp every man, officer and private
alike, flung himself down in the open where he was
and as he was. and had his first undisturbed sleep
for a week In the morning thev had the luxurious
experience of getting out of their clothes and plung-
ing into the sea. How they revelled in it, after that
awful week of forced marches, battle, flies, smoke,
stench, and sweat ! What laughter and splashing !
The shouts and the merry jests and their accents made
the scene just such a one as might be witnessed at
home in a swimming pool under Howth or Bray Head.

Afterwards the chief desire of all was to write
home. As the men lay almost naked on the warm
sands, under the scorching sun, many a letter was
written to loved onf-s in Ireland, each telling how he
got safely through his baptism of fire — the best news
he could possibly send — and what a grand name his
battalion had made for itself. Words of comfort
and cheer are freely used in such of the letters as
have been made public. "I'm happier than ever I
was; it's just the sort of life I like." "You can't
realise what high spirits I am in when I'm
fighting. I feel as if it were all one long exciting
Rugger match." "Don't you fret, I'll get
through it ill right; and even if I fall, sure we'll all
meet again in the next world after a few brief years."

To call the camp a "rest" camp is, perhaps, a
misnomer. It certainly afforded no refuge from the
flies. "There is a fellow near me doing nothing but
killing them in millions," writes one of the Dublins.
"I had ten in a mug of tea as soon as it was handed
to me," says another. This place of shelter was not
safe even from the Turkish guns. As many as
twenty-five men were knocked out by a shell. But

IN THE REST CAMP

89

;uch as the camp was, the stay of the Irish in it was
/ery brief indeed. On the morning of Sunday,
August 15th, they were ordered to take up positions
>n 'the ridge above them, and wait for the word to
ro forward and attack. Though "burned like a red
Herring, and just as thin and thirsty," as one of the
officers of the 7th Dublins said, describing himself
and giving a comic picture of them all, they were
again in good physical condition. And they had
need to be. For they were now assigned a task that
was to demand of them more fortitude and resolu-
tion and a bigger toll of life than even the taking of
Dublin Hill. ,

It was fortunate, then, that on that very Sunday,
August 15th, the great Irish Catholic festival of Our
Lady's Day, the Catholic members of the forces were
able to reinforce themselves with that sustaining
power which the Mass and Holy Communion impart.
The services were held by Father W. Murphy, one
of the chaplains, under the sheltering hill, in the
open air, not only within sound of the guns, but
within sight of the bursting shells. It was a rudely
improvised ahar— a stone laid on trestles, a crucifix,
and two candles— and the priest in his khaki service
uniform under the vestments. Many of the men
thought of the village chapel at home on that fine
Sunday morning. They saw the congregation, all
in their Sunday best, gathered outside, and while
waiting for the bell to stop, exchanging gossip about
the war, and inquiring of one another what was the
latest from the Dardanelles, about Tom, and Mike,
and Joe. The familiar scene was distinct to their
mind's eye, and their beating hearts kept time to the
me isured tones of the chapel bell. After the Mass
they were given the General Absolution. "It was
very impressive," says Sergeant Losty, of the 6th
Dublins, "to see Father Murphy standing out on the
side of the hill, and all the battalions, with their

90 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

ll^'t! 5^ndtho,ding up their right hands, saying
the Act of Contrition and he absolving them "

At this point it is appropriate that I should refer
to the cordial and intimate relations which existed
be ween the Protestant and Catholic chaplains of the
•o h Division An officer of the 30th Brigade, con-
sisting of the 6th and 7th Dublins and the 6th and
7 li Munsters, gives the following pleasant picture
of Father W. Murphy, Catholic priest, and the Rev.
Canon McClean, Church of Ireland minister: —

"This morning Father Murphy said Mass in the trenches,
where bullets, etc., were falling like hailstones. Oh ! he is a
splendid man. The Canon, a dear, good Irishman from Limerick
holds his services side by side with Father Murphy. They put
a great spirit into the men, who love them both; in fact, almost
adore them. I personally think that nothing I know of is
half good enough for those two noble gentlemen. Catholic
and I rotestant are hand-in-hand, all brought about by the
gentleness and undaunted courage displayed by these two
splendid soldiers of Christ. Never since the landing has the
roar of battle, be it ever so ferocious (and God only knows it
is bad here at times), prevented the'se clergymen from forcing
their way into the firing line and attending to our gallant sons
<>f Ireland. Canon McClean is over fifty years of age and
Father Murphy is forty-eight. You can imagine them,
even though of such an age, never off their feet, as they go
to and fro daily to their duties."

Both have been mentioned in Sir Ian Hamilton's
despatches. Brigadier-General Nicol, in command of
the 30th Brigade, writes in the warmest appreciation
of (heir services. "We of the 30th Brigade are never
likely to forget your fearless devotion to your duty,"
he writes to Canon McClean. "With you and Father
Murphy we were indeed fortunate; and it was so nice
to see you two the best of friends working hand in
hand for the common good. You both set us a fine
example." Canon McClean is rector of Rathkeale,
County Limerick.

CHAPTER VIII

FIGHT FOR KISLAH DAGH

GALLANT STAND AND FALL OF THE JTH DUBLINS

The objective of the new operations was the last
crest of Kiretsh Tepe Sirt, or, as some call it,
Kislah Da^h — a continuation of the Karakol Dagh,
which the Munsters had taken — beyond which it dips
and swings southward. Telegraphing from Alex-
andria, on August 19th, the special representative of
the Press Association says, in the vague way then
enjoined by the Censor, "The attacking troops were
a Division which was almost wholly Irish, and which
had already the capture of Chocolate Hill to its
credit." The battalions engaged were, as a fact,
entirely Irish.

The Mu- sters and 6th Dublins, advancing from
different sid'-s, commenced the attack about midday.
"In two hours we had not advanced twenty yards, so
heavy and well directed was the fire of the enemy,"
writes the Colonel of one of the battalions of the
Munsters. "Our second in command, most gallant
of officers, was mortally wounded, and many others
had fallen. Two companies, however, under cover
of some dead ground, had managed to get some 200
yards ahead of the rest of the line, and these com-
panies were now ordered to make a strong demon-

92

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

stral.on up the hill in order to try to weaken the
resistance on the top. Fixing bayonets they rushed
up with a wild Irish yell, and so great was their
dash that they actually reached the crest. The Turks
appearing from behind every rock and bush, flung
down their arms, and held up their hands. Many
prisoners were taken, but the charge did not stop.
On it swept along the ridge, and the last peak of all
was captured before the enemy could make a stand."
Here is an equally spirited account of the final
charge, written by a man in the ranks, Private Jack
Brisbane, of Buttevant, Co. Cork : "The 6th Munsters
charged with the bayonet. You often heard a shout
in the hurling field. It would not be in it. They
were like so many mad men. Go on, Munsters!
Up the Munsters! Fven the sailors in the harbour
heard it, and climbed up the rigging to try to get
a view of it, and shouted themselves hoarse. Up the
Munsters! It was grand. I am proud to be one
of them Father Murphy, our priest, said the evening
after, when he came to give the boys his blessing:
'Well done, Munsters; you have done well,' so
says the General. Father Murphy is a fine priest.
His last word is: 'Boys, I'm proud I'm an Irish-
man.

Lieutenant Neol E. Drury, of the 6th Dublins, who
before the war was a partner in a Dublin firm of
papermakers, supplies the following spirited account
of the action of his battalion in the operations: —

"About 4 o'clock everything seemed rendy for a charge, so
' Fix bayonets ' was the order, and, by Jove, the sight in the
sun was ripping. There were several warships lying along
the foot ol the ridge, and all the crews were lining the decks
watching the fight. When the flash of the bayonets showed
up in the sun a tremen lous cheer came up to us. ' Cheer, oh I
the Dulis ! ' Everyone veiled like mad, and charged up the
remaining piece of ground as if it had been level. The bhoys
put it across the Turns properly, and I can tell you there

FIGHT FOR K1SLAH DAGH 93

were nol many shining bayonets when we finished. We drove
them oil the ridge, h Iter skelter, and they fairly bunked,
throwing away rifles and equipment wholesale. When we got
to the top we had five machine-guns playing on them as they
ran down the other side, and as our chaps watched them
from the summit they cheered and waved their helmets like
mad, all the other troops back along the ridge and the ships'
crews joining in."

"Throughout the night the enemy, strongly rein-
forced, delivered counter-attacks, one after another,"
writes the same commanding officer of the Munsiers.
"The fighting was severe and bloody, but we held
on, and the morning found us still in possessibn of
what we had gained, though our losses had been
terribly heavy." He goes on : "I wish I could retail
half the acts ol individual heroism performed during
those hours — how one sergeant and one corporal, the
former 1 believe had been destined for the priesthood,
the latter only a boy, threw back the enemy's hand
grenades belore they could burst one after another,
and failing these threw large stones. Alas! before
morning they had both paid the penalty of their
gallantry. In the morning we were relieved, but the
roll call was a sad revelation. My observer, who had
been my groom w hen we had our horses, shot through
the body in the charge, refused to be removed until
the doctor promised him that he would personally
tell me that he was wounded, fearing that I might
think he had not followed me. The doctor faithfully
fulfilled his promise, though it cost him a long walk
at night. Such was the spirit of all ranks. Other
units, of course, were equally gallant." An extract
from another letter must be given here, as it reveals
one of the little tragedies of war, and the endurance
and resolution of the men. Sergeant Gallagher, of
D company of the Inriskillings, which was trans-
ferred to the Munsters and went into action with
them, got a bullet in hi.-» right eye and was made

94

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

stone blind. "I have a confession to make " he
writes from hospital to the recruiting officer at
btrabane, "I deceived you when you enlisted me I
had a glass eye, and now I have lost the other. I
hope to be back in Strabane soon, but I shall never
see the glen again, and watch the trout leaping
behind the bridge. But I am happy, and we
showed these Turks what Irishmen can do.
No matter what happens I have done my bit,
and I would not exchange with the best man at
home.

The casualties among the other units were equally
severe. On Sunday, late in the afternoon, the 7th
Dublins got the word to push on to the crest of the
hill and relieve the battalions that had captured it.
They advanced in the mode of progression which
alone was possible— slowly, in single file, crawling
through the thick prickly scrub, sinking in the sand,
stumbling over the rocks. It was laborious and ex-
hausting work. All the time they were harassed by
snipers. On the way up their commanding officer,
Colonel Downing, was twice hit, and, being disabled,
had to be left behind. Gaining the top of the hill,
they relieved the Munsters and the 6th Dublins, and
entrenched themselves as best they could, under the
ridge, on the near side by working hard throughout
the night.

At dawn on Monday morning, wearv as they were
from unremitting toil and want of sleep, they had
to meet an attack by a large force of bomb throwers
and riflemen. The Turks were at least three to one.
Under cover of the night they had crept up the far
side of the hill; and hiding, just under the ridge,
behind rocks and bushes, hurled hand grenades across
the twenty yards of rocky summit. The Dublins could
not answer back. Rifle fire was of little use against
a concealed enemy. There were no hand grenades.

FIGHT FOR KISLAH DAGH

A few of the 1 urkish bombs which had not exploded,
being wrongly timed, were hurled back, their long
fuses stih alight. Numbers of the Dublins were
hilling, wounded or killed. Major Harrison decided
to try the effect of a bayonet charge. This was the
action which, at the moment, was just what the men
most desired. For them it was maddening to be
held behind entrenchments whence they were unable
to exchange blow for blow — and more — with those
who were dealing death to their ranks. They were
aflame with that bloodthirsty rage of men in battle to
get at the throats of their opponents, to crush them,
if need be to tear them to pieces. So when the order
to charge was given the Dublins sprang up into the
open.

The first line was led by Captain Poole Hickman,
of D company, who came of a well-known Clare
family and was a barrister by profession. He never
returned from the charge. As the Dublins appeared
at the summit there was a splutter of fire along the
opposite ridge, which was lined by Turkish marks-
men. The men wavered and swayed uncertainly for
a minute or two before the shower of bullets. Hick-
man was well in front, waving his revolver and
shouting "On, Dublins!" That was the last that
was seen of him alive. The Turks made a horrid
din, shouting and shrieking, as if further to intimidate
their antagonists. But the Irish can yell, too, and
wild were their outcries as with fixed bayonets or
clubbed rifles they scrambled across the rocky summit.
Many of them did not go far. As they dropped they
lay strangely quiet in clumsy attitudes. Among
them was their superb leader, Major Harrison.
Others pnssed scathless over the open ground, only
to disappear for ever behind the ridge. These
charges and hand-to-hand fights commenced about
seven o'clock. The Turks fought with tenacity. It

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

was eleven o'clock before they gave way to the
repeated Irish onslaughts.

During those four hours magnificent courage and
daring were shown by the officers of the 7th Dublins.
Many a young Irishman of brilliant promise was
lost that day. They led their companies into the fray
and were the first to fall. Captain Michael Fitz-
Gibbon, a law student, and son of Mr. John Fitz-
Gibbon. the Nationalist M.P., Captain R. P. Tobin,
son of Surgeon Tobin, of Dublin — a gallant youth
of twenty-one — and Second Lieutenant Edward
Weatherill, an engineer, were killed. They were of
priceless worth to their country and the beloved of
their family circles. Major M. Lonsdale, of the 7th
Dublins, writing to Mr. FitzGibbon, of the death
of his son, says he died gallantly, leading part of
A company. His death was instantaneous. All the
other officers belonging to his company were also
killed. "It was a desperate fight," adds Major Lons-
dale, "and I do not think any but Irish soldiers
could have stood up against the losses we suffered
that Sunday and Mondav." Lieutenant Ernest
Hamilton, of D company, writing to Surgeon Tobin,
states that when Harrison and Hickman fell Captain
Tobin took command of the company. "Our men
at this time," he savs, "were getting badly knocked
down. Paddy and I took up a position on the top
of the knoll, and from there he controlled the fire
and steadied the men. Such gallantry and coolness
I have never witnessed. We fought like demons
against three times our numbers, and held on, too.
Our knoll came in for at least six attacks. During
one of these your son was killed, shot through the
head. H> caught me by the shoulder, and when I
turned round he had passed away. I earned him
back some distance and placed him under shelter,
but had to get back to my position to try to follow

FIGHT FOR KISLAH DAGH

97

his magnificent example. His death affected the men
so much that I thought all was finished. They fought
for another hour as they never fought before. Then
they were relieved."

Similar scenes were being enacted in other parts
of the field of operations. The casualties among the
officers of all the Irish regiments engaged were very
heavy. Captain VV. R. Richards, of the 6th Dublins,
a Dublin solicitor, and Lieutenant J. J. Doyle, an
engineering student of the National University, were
killed. So too, was Lieutenant VV. C. Nesbitt, of the
same regiment. Before he enlisted Mr. Nesbitt was
in the service of the Alliance Gas Company, Dublin.
His company had captured a ridge when he was shot
in the side. Some of his men ran to his aid and
raised him up. At the same instant he was struck a
second time and killed. Among the officers of other
regiments who fell was Second Lieutenant Hugh
Maurice MacDermot, 6th Irish Fusiliers, eldest son
of The MacDermot of Coolavin, Co. Sligo. Writing
of the officers of the 5th Irish Regiment, Father
Peter O Farrell, chaplain to the battalion, says:
"Nothing could excel, if anything could equal, the
conduct of the company and platoon commanders on
the iCih. Some stood on the ridge waving their
revolvers and pointing out the enemy to their men.
Of course they sacrificed their lives, for scarcely a
man appeared over the ridge but went down to the
well-directed fire of the Turkish snipers. These
brilliant men, however, feared nothing. They even
sang Irish tunes and shouted ' Up, Tip,' to encourage
the Irish soldiers."

Manv gaps were made that day in Irish sporting
and professional circles. Only a few more names
of the dead can be given out of the many who showed
splendid devotion to duty and supreme self-sacrifice :
Captain Dillon Preston, of the 6th Dublin Fusiliers;

E

98 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

Captain George Grant Duggan, of the 5th Irish
Fusiliers; Lieutenant J. R. Duggan, of the 5th Irish
Regiment. The 7th Munster Fusiliers lost on August
16th alone four captains and two subalterns killed
out of the thirteen officers who had survived the
previous engagements. Among them were two
Dublin men — Captain John V. Dunne, solicitor, and
Lieutenant Kevin O'Duffy. Lieutenant Ernest M.
Harper, of the same battalion, who was also killed,
was a demonstrator in chemistry in Queen's Univer-
sity, Belfast. Lieutenant H. H. McCormac, 5th Irish
Fusiliers, killed, was on the clerical staff at the
Limerick offices of Guinness, the brewers. The
famous D company of the 7th Dublins, led by Cap-
tain Poole Hickman and Captain Tobin, was prac-
tically wiped out. It was composed altogether of
young men distinguished in football and cricket and
"other forms of sport. Many of them had ample
private means, all belonged to the professional middle
class of Dublin, and they felt it a high honour to
serve in the rank and file of the Army.

Sir Bryan Mahon, the General in command of the
10th Division, sent a message to his troops saying
that Ireland should be proud to own such soldiers.
Ireland, indeed, is proud, though what happened was
no more than what she expected. When the 7th
Dublins were congratulated upon the stand they had
made, their answer was : "And what the blank, blank,
did you think we would do?" But with all her
exultation in the valour of her sons, Ireland cannot
close her ears to the cry of the Colonel of the 7™
Ministers on seeing the few officers who returned
from the fray: "My poor boys! My poor

b°There was a continuous series of desperate fights
for the command of Sari Bair until the end of August.
On the 2i st of the month a general offensive took

FIGHT FOR KISLAH DAGH 99

place on a grand scale, in which the forces of all
nationalities that landed at Suvla Bay were engaged.
To strengthen the attack of these inexperienced and
unseasoned but most gallant troops the veteran 29th
Division was brought up from Cape Helles. In that
Division were the survivors of the 1st Regular bat-
talions of the Dublins, Munsters and Inniskillings who
took part in that most frightful and glorious episode
of the campaign — the landing at Sedd-el-I3ahr on
April 25th, under the murderous fire of the Turkish
batteries stationed on the cliffs.

The new Irish battalions again distinguished them-
selves in the battle of August 21st. The 5th Con-
naught Rangers made a famous charge for which they
were specially thanked by the Australian Commander
of their Division. "The Rangers," writes an officer
of the battalion, "issued out to attack and capture
the Kabak Kuzu wells and the Turkish trenches in
the neighbourhood. It did not take them long. The
men poured out from a gap in the line, shook out to
four paces interval, and with a cheer carried all before
them, bayoneting all the Turks in the trenches, cap-
turing the wells, and even capturing some ground on
the Kaiajik Aghala. All that night the position was
consolidated, and in the morning was still held by
the Rangers. The next day we were thanked by
three General Officers and congratulated on the mag-
nificent charge." The 7th Dublins had to advance
across an open plain under the heights of Sari Bair.
An Australian soldier who stood on a neighbouring
hill told me that while English battalions cautiously
crossed in a series of rushes— falling flat on their
stomachs at each outburst of the Turkish guns— the
Dublins made their way over the uneven, hillocky
ground at a run. To move slowly, with proper
caution, would be torture to their Irish nature, im-
patient and ardent, in such circumstances.

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

One of the old Regular battalions in the 29th Divi-
sion, the 1st Inniskillings, also greatly added to their
renown by their dauntless resolution on August 21st.
The battalion pushed up to the top of Hill 70, or
Scimitar Hill, but were unable to maintain their posi-
tion, owing, as the Brigadier-General of their Brigade
states, "to the unavoidably inadequate artillery
support and complete preparedness on the part of
the enemy, resulting in heavy cross-fire from shrapnel,
machine-guns and rifles." Again they climbed the
hill and again were driven back. They made a third
charge up the hill, and after a desperate struggle were
compelled once more to yield ground that was now
thickly strewn with their dying and dead. The
Brigadier-General mentions that the Inniskillings
undertook the two further assaults entirely on their
own initiative. He adds: "Had there been any
appreciable number of survivors in the battalion, and
had Captain Pike been spared to lead them for a
fourth time, they would have continued their efforts
to secure complete possession of the hill."

The operations failed in their main purpose. Sari
Bair remained in the possession of the Turks. Mis-
takes made by some of the Generals of Divisions are
said, by Sir Ian Hamilton, the Commander-in-Chief,
to have been largely to blame for things going wrong.
But the fighting was not altogether barren of
results. The most desperate engagements in the
last davs of August had for their object the capture
of Hill 60, close to Sari Bair. An attack by the
5th Connaught Rangers on August 20th secured its
possession.

The battalion was again congratulated on its gal-
lantry bv three different General Officers. One of
them, General Sir A. J. Godlev. in command of the
New Zealanders, sent the following message to
Colonel Jourdaine, of the 5th Connaughts: —

FIGHT FOR KISLAH DAGH 101

" Heartiest congratulations from the New Zealand and Aus-
tralian Division on your brilliant achievement this evening,
which is a fitting sequel to the capture of Kabak Kuzu wells,
and will go down to history among the finest feats 01 your
distinguished regiment. Personally as an Irishman who has
served in two Irish regiments it gives me the greatest pride
and pleasure that the regiment should have performed such
gallant deeds under my command. Stick to what you have
got and consolidate."

But all was in vain. Gallipoli had to be aban-
doned. The British withdrew from the Peninsula in
January, 1916. The cost of the invasion in men,
Killed, wounded and missing, was 1 14,555. The
casualties in the 10th Irish Division were cruel. At
least a third of the forces were killed, disabled, or
invalided by bullets, shells and dysentery. 1

Gallipoli had become a place of shadows and
phantoms to the 10th Irish Division. As they looked
back upon it they could not but think of the maelstrom
of thick and prickly scrub, yielding sand, rocky
defiles, and steep hills of that roadless country; of
strong Turkish entrenchments, the continuous roar
of guns, bullets, shells, concealed snipers; of broiling
heat, sweat, thirst, tormenting flies, lack of water, and
dysentery, into which they were plunged on August
7th; of scrambling and bloody fighting; and of the
want of foresight and imagination in their high com-
manders that followed. It was a soldiers' campaign,
in which the bayonet and the man behind it counted
for everything, and the brains of the Generals — if
indeed there were any — for nothing. The whole net-
work of memories made a horrid nightmare of con-
fusion, agony, and sacrifice of life unparalleled in the
historv of the British Army, relieved only — but how
magnificently relieved--by the endurance and gal-
lantry of the troops, unequalled and unsurpassable.

Yet the 10th Division were loth to leave that dread
Peninsula, which, like a fearful monster, had de-

102 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

voured the young men of Ireland. They were sorry
to go, hecause the purpose of the campaign was
unachieved; still more sorry to part from their dead
comrades. Because of those dead Gallipoli will ever
be to the Irish race a place of glorious pride and
sorrow. Well may that huddled heap of hills be-
tween Suvla Bay and Sari Bair be haunted by the
wraith of Irish tragedy and grief ; well may the wailing
cry of the banshee be ever heard there.

CHAPTER IX

FOR CROSS AND CROWN

DEATH IN ACTION OF FATHER FINN OF THE DUBLIN'S
AND FATHER GWYNN OF THE IRISH GUARDS

In which mood do soldiers generally go into battle
—devotional or profane? An observer of authority,
Mr. J. H. Morgan, professor of constitutional history
at University College, London, who had a long stay
at the Front, in France and Flanders on Government
duty, commits himself to the curious statement that
most men go into action, not ejaculating prayers, but
swearing out aloud. However that may be as regards
the non-religious soldier, it certainly is not true of
the Catholic Irish soldier. By temperament and
training the average Irish soldier, like most of his
race, is profoundly religious at all times, and the
experiences of the chaplains to the Catholic Irish
regiments show that at no time is the Irish soldier
more under a constant and reverent sense of the
nearness of the unseen Powers, and his absolute de-
pendence upon them, than at the awful moment when,
in the plenitude of his youth and physical strength,
he is confronted by the prospect of sudden death or
bodily mutilation.

Of course, if a soldier does swear on the battlefield,
that circumstance must not necessarily be accepted
as proof either that he is destitute of religious feelings

and principles, or that there is any thought of impiety

103

io4 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

in his mind. Most likely the swearing is done quite
unconsciously. At a time when the mental faculties
are distraught and the tension on the central nervous
system reaches almost to the breaking-point, it is
probable that men no more know what they say than
they do when they are under an anaesthetic; and that,
in the one state as in the other, incongruous expres-
sions— wholly inconsistent with the character of the
patient — come to the lips from the deeps of sub-
consciousness. There is nothing like constant near-
ness to death to make men generally turn their
thoughts to things serious and solemn. The experi-
ences of Catholic chaplains tell howr widely the sense
of religion — the vanity of earthly concerns, the im-
portance of eternity, the wish to be at peace with God
— has been stirred by the war even in breasts that
probably had not harboured in the years of peace a
thought that there was any other world but this. Ah,
the eagerness of the Irish Catholic soldiers to have
sin washed away by confession and the absolving
words of the priest !

The Irish are the most religious soldiers in the
British Army ; and it is because they are religious that
they rank so high among the most brave. The two
characteristics, religious fervour and fearlessness of
danger, have always been very closely allied. In the
average Irishman there is a blend of pietv and mili-
tancy which makes him an effective soldier. Largely
for the reason that he is a praying man. the Irish
Catholic soldier is a fine fighting man. His religion
gives him fortitude in circumstances of unmitigated
horror, resignation to face the chances of being
mangled or killed at the call of duty; and from this
ease of mind spring that bravery and resolution in
action which are the most essential characteristics of
the soldier. In order that the Catholic soldier may
thus show himself at his best, it is necessary that he

FOR CROSS AND CROWN 105

should have ready access to the rites of the Church.
He wants the priest to be near him, and though the
Catholic army chaplains appointed for active service
are comparatively few, though their movements are
frequently impeded by the ever-changing develoo-
ments in the military situation, the priest is usually
close at hand at his service. Thus the Irish Catholic
soldier goes into battle stimulated by the services of
his chaplain, praying that God may bring him safely
through, or for a merciful judgment should he fall.

Extraordinarily varied and trying as have been the
experiences of the priesthood in the mission-field, it
is probable that never has it been subjected to so
severe a trial of nerve and endurance on its physical
side as it is in the present War of Nations. As to
the kind of men best suited for the service, the Rev.
Wiliam Forrest, an Irish Catholic chaplain himself,
writes: — "Priests between thirty and forty, not afraid
of some rough and tumble, with, perhaps, an adven-
turous vein in their composition, and with plenty of
zeal and sympathy, would be the most suitable — riders
and good horse-masters rather than ponderous
theologians and professors, though, indeed, these
would have much to learn, and would very greatly
profit, by their experience." Certainly the record of
Catholic army chaplains shines gloriously for its zeal,
self-sacrifice, and heroism ; and its sanctifying light
illumines the awful tragedy of suffering and woe that
has befallen the human race.

The Catholic chaplain has also various duties to
perform when his men are resting in billets, on guard
in the lines of communication, or lying wounded or ill
in the base hospitals. He goes about in khaki, like
the other officers of the battalion to which he is
attached, save that he wears the Roman collar and
black patches on his shoulder straps. His equipment
or kit is usually heavy. It contains the stone for the

E*

io6

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

akar, the vestments, the sacred vessels, the candles,
the crucifix, and other requisites for the Mass. On
his person he always carries the Holy Oils and the
Viaticum for the last sacrament of all, when the soul
of the mortally wounded soldier is about to take flight
into the eternal.

Services are held in all sorts of places and on every
possible occasion. Lieutenant C. Mowlan, medical
officer to the ist Irish Fusiliers, writes: — "We have
Mass out in the open, and it is most gratifying 10 see
the long line of men waiting for confession, and at
Mass the devotion with which they attend, and tell the
beads of our Blessed Lady, a devotion so dear for
many reasons, historical as well as devotional, to the
heart of the Catholic Irishman. A large crowd
attended Communion." A door laid upon two
trestles or a packing-case often serves as an altar,
with the two burning candles, and a few hastily
gathered evergreens for decorations. Mass is fre-
quently celebrated in the very early hours of the
morning before the dawn begins to creep into the sky.
And a strange and wonderful spectacle it is! Black-
darkness, save for the two candles; the priest offering
up the Sacrifice at the rudely improvised altar; the
soldiers, each with his rifle, and weighed down with
his kit and ammunition, grimed with the mud of the
trenches and the smoke of battle, kneeling in a circle
round the light. They receive the final Blessing with
bowed heads, then, crossing themselves, they stand
up for the last Gospel, their haggard and unshaven
fares all aglow with religious exaltation.

But perhaps the most moving^and inspiring scene
of all is that of giving the General Absolution to a
battalion ordered to advance immediately into action.
Father Peal, S.J., of the Connaught Rangers, enables
us vividly to see it in the mind's eye. The regiment
were in billets in Bethune when one winter's morning

FOR CROSS AND CROWN 107

at three o'clock they received instructions to make an
attack. Before the men left, Father Peal got the
Colonel's permission to speak to them. They were
drawn up in a large square behind a secular school,
called "College de Jeunes Filles," when their chaplain,
mounting the steps of the porch, thus addressed them
in the dark : "Rangers, once again at the bidding of
our King and country you are going to face the
enemy. Before you go, turn to God and ask of Him
pardon for your sins. Repeat the act of contrition
after me." Then the square resounded with the
fervent ejaculations of the men. "In the name of the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Oh, my God,
I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee. I
detest my sins most sincerely, because they are dis-
pleasing to Thee, my God, who art most worthy of
all my love; and I promise never to offend Thee
again." "I shall now," says the priest, "give you
Absolution in God's name. ' Dominus noster Jesus
Christus vos absolvat et ego auctoritate Ipsius yos
absolvo a peccatis vestris, in nomine Patris et Filii
et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.' May God Almighty.
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, bless you and lead you
to victory. Amen." As the priest blessed them, the
men again made the sign of the Cross. No wonder
that men of such deep faith and so heartened by
the services of their chaplains should fight valiantly.

The tireless care and solicitude of the Catholic
( liaplain for his men is seen in the fine record, during
a long and arduous campaign, of Father Francis
Gleeson, of the 2nd Munster Fusiliers, who has been
in Flanders and France since the outbreak of the
war. If you meet a man of the 2nd Munsters, just
mention the name of Father Gleeson, and see how his
face lights up. "Father Gleeson, is it!" exclaimed
one whom I encountered among the wounded at a
London hospital. 'He's a warrior and no mistake.

io8 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

There's no man at the Front more brave or cooler.
Why, it is in the hottest place up in the firing line
he do be to give comfort to the boys that are dying."
"And, do you know," he added with a laugh, as he
recalled the chaplain's playful and sportive ways,
"Father Gleeson brought us mouth-organs, and
showed that he could play ' Tipperary ' with the best
of us." Another man described a meeting with
Father Gleeson in a village close to the first line of
trenches, where the chaplain was waiting to attend
to the wounded. "It got so hot with stray bullets
that he gavr me absolution as I stood in the street
of the ruined village. It was very dramatic, I covered
with mud and standing bareheaded, and he blessing
me. I'll ne\er forget it." I gathered, too, that Father
Gleeson is tfe counsellor of the battalion as well as
its chaplain. The men go to him with their temporal
troubles of all kinds, and never fail in getting sym-
pathy, guidance, and help.

The chaplains of all denominations are equally
devoted. But the Catholic priest has a special
impulse to self-sacrificing duty for two reasons —
first, the desire that Catholics have to die shriven
and anoimed; and the softening of the bereavement
of parents and relations which comes from the know-
ledge that Paddy, Jamsie, Joe, or Mike had been to
his duty before the battle, or had the priest with him
when he died. Accordingly, no consideration of
danger to himself will deter the Catholic chaplain
from going into trie firing line to administer the last
rites. In the circumstances, it was to be expected
that though the chaplains of all the denominations
are zealous and brave in the discharge of their sacred
duties, the first chaplain of any denomination to give
his life for his men should be an Irish priest, Father
Finn, of the ist Royal Dublin Fusiliers, who fell in
Gallipoli.

FOR CROSS AND CROWN 109

A Tipperary man, serving on the English Mission
in the Province of Liverpool, Father Finn joined the
1st Duohns on their arrival in England from India
for active service, in November, 1914. The Dublins,
with the 1st Munster Fusiliers, took part, as 1 have
already described, in the first landing of British
troops on the Peninsula, at Sedd-el-Bahr, on Sunday,
April 25th, 1915. On the Saturday morning Father
Finn heard the confessions of the men on board the
transport, off Tenedos, said Mass, and gave Holy
Communion. Then on Sunday morning he asked
permission of the commanding officer of the battalion
to go ashore with the men. Colonel Rooth tried to
persuade him to remain on the transport, where he
could give his services to such of the wounded as
were brought back. "You are foolish to go; it means
death," said the officer. "The priest's place is beside
the dying soldier; I must go," was Father Finn's
decisive reply. For these and other particulars of
the gallant action of the priest, I am mainly indebted
to the Rev. H. C. Foster, Church of England naval
chaplain, who was in one of the warships engaged in
the bombardment of the Peninsula at the landing,
and highl) esteemed Father Finn as a friend.

Father Finn left the transport for the shore in the
same boat as the Colonel. When the boats crowded
with the Dublins got close to the beach a hail of
shrapnel, machine-gun fire, and rifle fire was showered
upon them by the Turks, hidden among the rocks
and ragged brushwood on the heights. Numbers of
the Dublins were killed or wounded, and either
tumbled into the water or dropped on reaching the
beach. This fearful spectacle was Father Finn's
first exper.ence of the savagery of war. It terribly
upset him. He at once jumped out of the boat and
went to the assistance of the bleeding and struggling
men. Then he was hit himself. By the time he

no THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

had waded to the beach his clothing- was riddled
with shot. Yet disabled as he was, and in spite also
of the great pain he must have been suffering, he
crawled about the beach, affording consolation to the
dying Dublins. I have been told that to give the
absolution he had to hold up his injured right arm
with his left. It was while he was in the act of thus
blessing one of his men that his skull was broken
by a piece of shrapnel. The last thought of Father
Finn was for the Dublins. His orderly says that
in a brief moment of consciousness he asked: "Are
our fellows winning?" Amid the thunder of the
guns on sea and land his soul soon passed away.
He was buried on the beach where he died, and the
grave was marked by a cross, made out of an
ammunition box, with the inscription — "To the
memory of the Rev. Capt. Finn." Gallipoli is classic
ground. It is consecrated by the achievements of
the ancient Greeks over the Persian hordes at the
dawn of Western civilisation. It is now further
hallowed as the grave and monument of that warrior
priest, Father Finn, and the gallant Dublins and
M unsters.

The next Catholic chaplain to lose his life on active
service was Father John Gwynn, S.J., of the ist Irish
Guards, who was killed in the trenches near Vermelles
on October nth, ioj5- Born at Youghal, and reared
in Galway, Father Gwynn entered the Society of Jesus
in 1884. At the outbreak of the war he was one of the
governing body of University College, Dublin, and
volunteering for active service he was attached, the
first week of November, 1914, to the Irish Guards, as
their first war chaplain. A big, handsome man, and
soldierly in appearance, Father Gwynn was fitting
in every way to be chaplain to so splendid and almost
wholly Catholic body of Irishmen as the Irish Guards.
His experiences at the Front — the devotion he showed

FOR CROSS AND CROWN

in

to his duties and the risks he ran— prove more than
the truth of the old saying that every Irishman is born
either a soldier or a monk, for they establish that often
he is born both.

Father Gwynn was the first chaplain of any denomi-
nation attached to the British Expeditionary Force to
be wounded. That was during the memorable
engagement at Cuinchy, on February ist, 19 1 5, when
Michael O'Leary won the Victoria Cross. What a
moving picture of piety it presents ! The task of the
Irish was to retake positions in the brickfields captured
by the Germans from the Coldstream Guards. Eager
to retrieve the position the Coldstreams first advanced,
but being met by a heavy fire from the enemy, thev
showed signs of wavering. Then a company of the
Irish Guards were ordered out. They had received
absolution and Communion behind the trenches, a few
days before, from Father Gwynn, and their chaplain
was still with them at the supreme moment. Now,
before advancing, they knelt in silent prayer for a
minute. Then, each man making the sign of the
Cross, they sprang to their feet, and dashing in wide
open order across the exposed ground, swept by the
enemy's fire, they hunted the Germans from the brick-
fields We all know that when the story of Michael
O'Leary's achievement that dnv became known, half
the world stood up bare-headed in acknowledgment of
his gallantry. 1 have been told that the incident which
was most talked of from end to end of the British
lines was that of the Guardsmen kneeling down in
prayer before the charge. Nothing like it ever
occurred before. At least it is unprecedented in the
history of the English Army of modern times. Those
who saw them say that, as the Irish Guards dashed
across the plain, they had an expression of absolute
happiness and joy on their faces. Surely an episode
that will livo in the crowded annals of this war. It

H2 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

was then that Father Gwynn was wounded. He said
the last thing he remembered was seeing the Irish
Guards get to the top of their trench when a lurid
blaze seemed to flash into his eyes with a deafening
crash. He was hurled back five yards or so and lay
unconscious for some minutes. When he came to he
felt his face all streaming with blood and his leg
paining him. He was suffocated, too, with a thick,
warmy, vile gas, which came from the shell. "A
doctor bandaged me up," he goes on, "and I found I
was not so bad — splinters of the shell just grazed my
face, cutting it; a bit, too, struck me an inch or so
above the knee and lodged inside, but in an hour's
time, when everything was washed and bandaged, I
was able to join and give Extreme Unction to a poor
Irish Guardsman who had been badly hit."

I have before me a number of letters written by
Father Gwynn. They are all most interesting. In
every one of them he has something to sav in praise
of the Catholicity and valour of the Irish Guards.
"We have to have Mass in a field," he writes in one
letter, "the Irish Guards are nearly all Catholics, and
we are at present the strongest battalion in the Guards'
Brigade. The men then sing hymns at Mass, and it
is fine to hear nearly a thousand men singing out in
the open at the top of their voices. You have no
idea what a splendid battalion the Irish Guards are!
You have Sergeant Mike O'Leary, V.C., with you. I
often have a chat with him when he comes to see me.
But do you know that there are plenty of men in the
Irish Guards who have done as bravely as O'Leary,
and there's never a word about it." In another letter,
written a few weeks before his death, he says:— "It
would have done your heart good to hear them last
night in the little' village church where we are just
for the moment, singing the ' O Salutaris,' ' Tantum
Ergo,' 'Look Down, 6 Mother Marv,' and at the

FOR CROSS AND CROWN

"3

end the ' Hail Glorious St. Patrick.' A Grenadier
officer who happened to be present, having ridden over
from where the Grenadiers are, said it was worth
coming ten miles to hear. I feared for the roof of the
church, especially when they came to the last verse
of the hymn to St. Patrick."

Throughout the morning of the day he received
his mortal wound, Father Gwynn had had a most
arduous and anxious time in the trenches. It was
during the fighting round Hill 70, after the Battle of
Loos. An Irish Guardsman writes: —

" 1 saw him just before he died. Shrapnel and bullets were
being showered upon us in all directions. Hundreds of our
lads dropped. Father Gwynn was undismayed. He seemed
to be all over the place trying to give the Last Sacrament to
the dying. Once I thought he was buried alive, for a shell
exploded within a few yards of where he was, and the next
moment I saw nothing but a great heap of earth. The plight
of the wounded concealed beneath was harrowing. O it of the
ground came cries of ' Father, Father, Father,' from those
who were in their death agonies. Then as if by a miracle
Father Gwynn was seen to fight his way through the earth.
He must have been severely injured, but he v.ent on blessing
the wounded and hearing their confessions. The last I saw
of him was kneeling by the side of a German soldier. It was
a scene to makt you cry."

Shortly after this scene Father Gwvnn was at
luncheon with four other officers in the Headquarters'
dug-out when a German shell landed in the doorway
and burst. Captain Lord Desmond FitzGerald
(brother of the Duke of Leinster) was slightly hit.
Colonel Madden was so severely wounded that he died
some days afterwards. Father Gwynn received as
many as eight wounds. One piece of the shell entered
his back and pierced one of his lungs. He was sent
to hospital at Bethune, and died there the next
morning. In the Bethune cemetery his grave is
marked by a marble monument which bears these two
inscriptions : —

H4 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

" R.I. P.

REV. FATHER JOHN GWYNN, S.J.
Attached to the
1st Irish Guards.
He Died at Bethune on October 12th, 1915, from
Wounds Received in Action near Vermelles
on October nth, 1915.
Aped 49 years.
This Monument has been erected by all Ranks of the
1st Bat. Irish Guards in grateful Remembrance of
their Beloved Chaplain, Father Gwynn, who was with
them on Active Service for nearly twelve months trom
Nov., 19 14, until his death, and shared with unfailing
devotion all their trials and hardships."

The wonder, indeed, is that many more Catholic
chaplains have not been killed. Father James Stack,
of the Redemptorist Order — a County Limerick man
— had a narrow escape from being killed by German
rifle fire as he was attending to a dying Irish soldier
between the opposing lines. The soldier was heard
in the British trenches calling for a priest. Father
Stack crept out to him, heard his confession, anointed
him, and lay by his side praying until he passed away.
While he was engaged on this sublime errand of
mercy the priest was fired on by the Germans, but
he got back unhurt. He was mentioned in Sir John
French's valedictory despatch. A dramatic story is
also told of another dauntless Catholic chaplain. One
bitter winter's night eight men left a British trench
to bomb the Germans. None of them returned. Their
comrades were consumed with anxiety as to their fate.
Were they prisoners, were they dead, or were they
lying wounded in the mud and the slush? The
Catholic chaplain of the battalion volunteered to go out
in front and try to learn what had become of them.
After some hesitation his request was granted. "Don-
ning his surplice and with a crucifix in his hand the
priest proceeded down one of the saps and climbed
out into the open," writes a staff correspondent of the
Cci tral News at the Front. "With their eyes glued

FOR CROSS AND CROWN

ii5

to periscopes, the British line watched him anxiously
as he proceeded slowly towards the German lines.
Not a shot was fired bv the enemy. After a while
the chaplain was seen to stop and bend down near
the German wire entanglements. He knelt in prayer.
Then with the same calm step he returned to his own
lines. Hp had four identity discs in his hand, and
reported that the Germans had held up four khaki
caps on their rifles, indicating that the other four
were prisoners in their hands."

Father J Fahey, a Tipperary man, made a lasting
reputation among the Dominion Forces in Gallipoli
by his services as chaplain to the nth Australian
Battalion. The Archbishop of Perth (Australia) got
a letter from an officer in Gallipoli which said : "You
are to b'. congratulated for sending us such an
admirable chaplain as Father Fahey. He is the idol
of the nth Battalion, and everyone, irrespective of
creed, has a good word to say for him." Dr. McWhae,
one of the medical officers, puts in a different way
the estimation in which Father Fahey is held: "He
is one of thr finest fellows in the world, and every-
body swears by him. He landed at Gallipoli with the
covering party, and spends his time in the trenches."
Before the troops left Lemnos Island for the first
landing at Anzac on April 25th, 1915, the Brigadier
went round and told the chaplains of all denomina-
tions that they could go aboard the hospital ships if
they wished. Father Fahey and Father McMenamin,
a chaplain with the New Zealand Forces, said they
would go in the transports with the men and also
accompany them into the trenches. And, sure enough,
these two priests were the first of the chaplains in
the firing line looking after their men. "The ' Padre,'
as he is called by his battalion," writes the officer in
his letter to the Archbishop of Perth, "fills in his
spare time carrying up provisions to the men at the
front, and helps the wounded back, and I can tell

n6 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

you he is not afraid to go where the bullets fall pretty
thickly. Father Fahey has done more in the way
of utilising his spare time— he has led the men in
a charge against the Turkish entrenchments. On an
occasion when all the officers had been killed or
disabled he called on the remnants of the company,
" Follow me, and though I have only a stick, you can
give the Turks some Western Australian cold steel."

Father Fahey himself gives the following racy
account of the discomforts which attended the dis-
charge of his duties in Gallipoli : —

" I have had my cloihes and boots off only once during the
past month. I had a wash twice, and one shave, so I can
assure you I do not look a thing of beauty. I am cultivating
a beard, and in another month I expect to look as fierce as a
Bedouin chief Water is scarce; we only get enough to
drink and cook, but none to wash; so we are not too clean.
I have had several narrow escapes, so manv, in fact, that I
wonder why I am still alive. I had four bullets in my pack,
one through a jam tin cut of which I was eating, which' spoiled
the jam and made me very wild. One through my water-
bottle; one through e tobacco-tin in my pocket; one look the
epaulette off my tunic, and once I had nineteen shrapnel bullets
through a waterproof sheet on which I was lying only a few
minutes previously. I have lost count of the shells that nearly
accounted for me; I hardly expect to get through the business
alive, but seeing that I have been lucky so far I may."

The last I heard of Father Fahey was that he was
lying wounded in an hospital at Malta. Writing of
his work as a priest, he says: "I have heard con-
fessions in all kinds of weird places, with the shrapnel
bursting overhead and bullets whizzing around. I
go along the trenches every day in case anvone might
want to see me. It is all so strange and uncannv.
Passing a'ong the trenches, a soldier with his rifle
through a loophole and one eye on the enemy may
call me to hear his confession ; while it is being done
the bullets are plopping into the sandbags of the
parapet a few inches away. It is consoling and satis-
factory work, if a little dangerous."

FOR CROSS AND CROWN 117

The part of the chaplain's work that is most harrow-
ing to him personally, but most consoling to those
whom he serves, is that of ministering to the wounded
at the hospital clearing stations nearest to the firing
line. "Sometimes when I hold them up on the
stretcher to try to get them to take a drink," writes
Father L. J. Stafford, one of the chaplains to the 10th
Irish Division in Gallipoli, "I think that Christ must
have foreseen this awful slaughter and borne it in
His Passion as part of the sorrows of mankind, and
I try to associate myself with the feelings of His
Virgin Mother." The acts and the thoughts of the
priest blend together in perfect harmony like the
words and music of an inspired hymn to the
Almighty. Well might Father Stafford add: "I am
in great peril, but doing my duty fearlessly. Could
man wish for more?"

As the priest kneels down by these dying Irish
youths he receives many last messages to send to the
loved ones at home, a sacred trust which he is most
scrupulous faithfully to discharge. There are thou-
sands of mothers in Ireland grieving for darling sons
lying mouldering in Flanders, France, and Gallipoli.
If anything can ease the gnawing pain at the heart
of these bereaved mothers, it surely must be the
receipt of one of those beautifully sympathetic and
healing letters which they receive from the Irish
Catholic chaplains. I have had the privilege of read-
ing numbers of them, and happily in none have I
come upon any heroics about the nobility of the
youth's self-sacrifice and the grandeur of the cause
for which he died. To the Irish Catholic mother such
phrases bring no consolation. His death tells her
that her son has done his duty; that is enough; and
her sole concern is with his eternal salvation. It is
on this point that the chaplain is at pains to reassure
her.

"I saw him last at 7.30 p.m. on July 14th. He was

n8 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

very exhausted, and I could see that he would not
last long. He tried to give me his mother's address,
but failed. All he could say was: ' Not weep. With
God.' I told him I should tell his mother not to weep
because h? would be with God, and he shook his
head in consent. He then said : ' Good-bye, Father.
God bless you.' " So does Father Felix Couturier,
O.P., describe the death in hospital at Alexandria of
Lance-Corporal Wilkerson, 7th Dublin Fusiliers,
wounded at Gallipoh. Then there is the consoling
letter of Father O'Herlihy, chaplain in Egypt, to Mrs.
Kelleher, Cork, telling of the death of her son, Patrick,
a private in the 1st Battalion Royal Munster Fusiliers,
also wounded in Gallipoli. Here is an extract
from it : —

"I've seen many in pain and suffering- since the war began,
but few have I seen to bear it all so willingly and so patiently
as your son, Paddy; for God and His Blessed Mother were
helping him a lot. About a week after the operation his
sufferings increased, and on Sunday morning last, when I said
Holy Mass at the hospital, he again asked me to bring him
Holy Communion, as he was confined to bed. You could see
the happiness in his features when Our Blessed Lord came to
him again to give him new strength and grace to bear up. He
said to me after : ' Father, every time you'll say Holy Mass
here, you will bring me Holy Communion again, won't you? I
don't like to trouble you, but 1 long so much to receive.' Poor
Paddy I He was such a good boy 1 I know, dear Mrs.
Kelleher, you have long since put your son in God's holy
hands, leaving him entirely to God. And God and Mary will
now, I know, reward you and give you help and grace to bear
for the love of them the sorrowful news it's my hard lot to be
the first to send you, perhaps. Your poor Paddy passed away
to the God whom he loved so much, and for whom he bore
all so patiently. Don t fear for Paddy. He is happy now,
poor lad, after many sufferings."

Could there be anvthing more precious to an Irish
Catholic mother than such an account of the last
hours of the son of her heart— a vie mo chree— dying
of battle wounds in a far foreign land?

CHAPTER X

THE GREAT PUSH AT LOOS

HISTORIC FOOTBALL CHARGE OF THE LONDON IRISH,
WITH THE GERMAN TRENCHES AS GOAL 1

What a stirring story ot Irish gaiety and resolu-
tion is that of the charge of the London Irish Rifles
in the great advance upon the mining village of Loos,
on Saturday, September 25th, 1915 ! "Hurrah, the
London Irish, hurrah ! " The shout ran along the
British Lines on Tuesday, September 28th, as the
battalion, with many gaps in their ranks, returned
after the splendid stand against the terrific German
counter-attack which followed the charge, when,
according to the General of their Brigade, they helped
to save the 4th Army Corps.

"The lucky Irish ! " That is one of the names they
are known by at the Front. They are given posts of
difficulty and danger, and so well do they acquit them-
selves that ihe company officers get Military Crosses,
and the Distinguished Conduct Medal is liberally dis-
tributed among the rank and file. Yet their casualties
are remarkably low. The jealous and the profane in
other London battalions account for it, I am told, by
reviving the ancient gibe about the devil always taking
special care of his own. It is true the London Irish
are up to all sorts of "divilment" — as we say in
Ireland— whether in the trenches or in billets. I have

heard no more delicious war anecdote than that which

119

120

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

tells of a fine trick they played on the enemy. Their
telephone linesmen happened to find two live German
cables on the ground behind their trenches. The
linesmen, without as much as saying "by your leave"
to the Germans, promptly fitted wires to the cables,
and for many weeks they had a most serviceable
electric installation at the Battalion Headquarters,
officers' dug-outs, and dressing-stations, with power
"milked" from the enemy.

That is the Irish kind of "divilment," and it is
"divilment " that the Devil himself would disown, for
it tends to spoil the knavish designs he has in hand
when he uses the Germans as his fitting instruments.
The London Irish, as a matter of fact, are noted for
their religious devotion and practices. I read in the
Spectator an interesting correspondence round the
question whether the Anglican chaplains were of any
earthly good at the Front. Nothing was said, I
noticed, about their heavenly uses. But a woman sent
a remarkable letter she had received from her son in
the trenches. "There is another man who has great
influence out here," he wrote. "He is a priest attached
to an Irish regiment. He insists upon charging every
time with the men, and no one dare protest. He is
absolutely the idol of the regiment." This is Father
Lane-Fox, the chaplain of the London Irish, who
joined in the famous charge of the battalion at Loos,
absolving those who were shot as they fell, and
arriving in the German trtnehes with the foremost.
And many of the men will tell you that they are "the
lucky Irish," because of the comfort and reassurance
they derive from the prayers and self-sacrificing
services of i! eir < hnplain. The battalion arc also able
to warm their hearts and fire their blood with the
strains of the ancient Irish war-pipes. This old bar-
baric music has magic in it. It transforms the Gael.
It reawakens in the deeps of their being, even in
this twentieth century, impressions, moods, feelings,

THE GREAT PUSH AT LOOS 121

inherited from a wild, untamed ancestry for thousands
of yeats, and thus gives them, more than strong wine,
that strength of arm and that endurance of soul which
make tfem invincible.

So the London Irish were ready when the great day
came. Three Divisions of the 4th Army Corps took
part in tee battle ot Loos. The London Irish were
in a Division exclusively composed of Brigades of
London Territorials, and they had the honour of being
selected to lead that Division in the attack. As the
result of th^ battle a double length of trenches were
carried along a line of four miles, and to a depth, at
its greatest, of four miles. The whole of this area,
amounting to at least twelve square miles, around the
village of Loos, between Hulluch and Lens, was a
desperate network of trenches and bomb-proof shelters.

On the night of September 24th the London Irish
received their orders and marched out to take up their
allotted positions. "What a sight!" writes one of
the men. "Almost pitch dark, as light near the firing
line must not be — just a few glimmers here and there
to mark cross roads, and those are lanterns, mostly
on the ground, in charge of one or more soldiers,
according to the importance of the posts, whose job
It is to control the traffic. Now and again a more or
less lurid illumination comes from the star shells that
are used between the trenches while searchlights sweep
across the sky. Artillery flashes continuously and the
roar of the guns is added to the crash and rattle of
the traTic on the roads." At a point in the march
Brigadier-General Twaites was standing to see the
battalion go by. He shook hands with the officers and
wished them 'Good luck." He told the men that he
was expecting great things of them. "Remember,"
he said, "that the London Irish has been chosen to
lead the whole Division."

The trenches were reached about midnight. It was
an inclement and dreary time. Rain was falling in

122

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

torrents. For over six hours the men had to wait in
sodden clothes in a trench of slush for the order which
would mean death to many, to others rack'ng and
disabling wounds, and to all who survived the heart-
ache for loved comrades gone for ever. Vet how
cheerful they were ! To say that none of them were
afraid would be to convey that each was a bloodless
abstraction. Whatever else an Irishman nay be he
certainly is never that. He is a hot-blooded human
creature, with more than his share of the passions and
desires which agitate the heart of man, and so he is
prone at times to have fits of depression and despair.
It is possible, then, that the minds 0£ some were
darkened by gloomy forebodings. But as an instance
of the general stout-heartedness of the men, an officer
told me that many of them took out cigarettes, and,
having lighted them, held the burning match at arm's
length to see if their hands were steady as they waited
under the shadow of death. Just at the last moment,
too, the liveliest interest was aroused by a rumour
which ran along the trenches. It was said that some
particularly bright spirits in the battalion had arranged
to make the coming charge for ever memorable by
an act of unparalleled daring. What is it to be? The
question was eagerly put. But those in the secret
would not say more than the remark that the nature
of it no one would ever guess even if he were to sit
down and give all his life to it, and work overtime as
well.

At half past six o'clock in the morning the signal
came from Major Beresford — a shrill note of the
whistle and the cry, "Irish up and over." Gas had
been turned on some little time before to help in
clearing the ground for the advance, and as the wind
was slightly favourable it drifted, a mass of dark-
vapour, towards the German trenches. But as there
was a danger that the cloud might be overtaken, if
the charge were successful and rapid, most of the men

THE GREAT PUSH AT LOOS 123

put on their gas helmets, and fearful and wonderful
monsters they looked as, in obedience to the company
officers' order, "Over you go, lads," they mounted the
parapets. Over they went by platoons, with half a
minute's interval between each, and though the enemy
immediately opened fire they formed up in four
splendid lines, with bayonets fixed and rifles at the
slope before they charged.

Then it was that the grand secret was disclosed, a
thing almost incredible and unthinkable, indeed. A
football was dropped by members of the London Irish
Rugby Club in the ranks, and as they charged they
kicked it before them across a plain as flat, grassy,
and bare of cover as the Fifteen Acres in the Phcenix
Park, or the upper stretch of Wimbledon Common.
A game ot football on the border line between life and
death ! What a fantastic conception ! No wonder
that the French troops who were watching the advance
were astounded by the spectacle. "It is magnificent,
but it is not war ! 1 Possibly the French at Loos had
the same thought that the French at Balaclava had
when they saw the charge of the Light Brigade. But,
wait a while. Despite the apparent oddity and in-
consequence of the incident, we shall see that behind
it there was a grim and dread purpose well befitting
the occasion.

On the Rugby playing fields the rush and dash of
the Irish are famous. Who that was there will ever
forget the glorious international match that was played
at Twickenham between England and Ireland the year
before the war, with the King and Prime Minister
among (he tens of thousands of fascinated spectators
of the finest game that ever was seen ? Several of the
grand young fellows who superbly contended for the
mastery of the hall on that great day are buried close
to where they fell in France and Flanders, gallantly
leading their men as company officers (the thought
of it is enough to make one weep), and they played the

124

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

game on these different fields, according to their
separate national characteristics— equally clean-handed
and chivalrous, both, as sportsmen, incapable of a
mean trick or taking an opponent at an unfair advan-
tage; disciplined, resourceful, dexterous, and deft the
English; light-hearted, frank, ardent, and dare-
devil led the Irish. So, too, at Loos the London Irish
dashed forward with the same rapture in the game that
they used to display in a match on their grounds at
Forest Hill, shouting their slogan, "On the ball,
London Irish ! " They kicked the ball before them,
not this time in the face of an opposing English,
Welsh, or Scottish pack, but against unceasing volleys
of shrapnel and rifle fire which brought many of them
down, dead or disabled.

One man who was in the charge told me that at first
he had a confused sense of a clamorous hubbub and
of comrades falling around him. Afterwards he saw
dimly — as if still in a bad drram — the football being
kicked, and there came vaguely back to his mind the
talk in the trenches as they waited for the whistle.
Then he had a shock of surprise which brought every-
thing into sharp reality; and the exhilaration of the
episode restoring him to normality and confidence,
he followed the ball with the others until it was kicked
right into the enemy's trench with a joyous shout of
"Goal!" Thus this exhibition of cool audacity —
unparalleled, perhaps, in the annals of war — instead
of retarding the advance added immensely to its go.
It will be historic, that game of football amid the
thunders and the lightnings of the field of battle, with
the German trenches for the goal ; and soaring up from
the very depths of the awful tumult of the fight will
ever be heard, "On the ball, London Irish!"

So the first line of German trenches was reached.
The barbed wire entanglements had been blown to
pieces by shell fire before the attack. Another effect of
thai terrific bombardment, which lasted nineteen days,

THE GREAT PUSH AT LOOS 125

was the cowed and dazed condition of the Germans.
They were so easily and quickly disposed of by the
first line of London Irish that the other lines pressed
forward, scrambling across the trench over the bodies
of killed and wounded enemies; and, as they did so,
catching glimpses tlirough the smoke of the haggard
and frightened faces of the grey-clad survivors making
but a feeble resistance or surrendering without striking
a blow.

The advance to the second line of German trenches
was not so easy. Here was an inferno of tangled
wreckage sirewn o\er mud, smoke-dimmed, and torn
with shrapnel, through which the men could advance
but slo\sly, with stumbling feet and gasping breath,
while their ears were assailed with horrid noises —
screaming, yelling, crashing, pounding, cheering,
screeching. Major Beresford, who led the charge,
fell with a bullet through his lung on the way to the
first German trench. Four officers were killed on the
same piece of ground. But the men went steadily on,
though bereft of most of their leaders, and at the
second line trench of the Germans, more strongly held
than the first, were inspired for the ordeal before them
by the sight of Captain and Adjutant A. P. Hamilton,
who, though shot through the knee and suffering great
pain, guided the operations as he moved from place
to place, limping heavily. There was desperately
fierce hand-to-hand work here and bomb firing parties
were hard at it, clearing out every corner. One man
performed a particularly brave act and a shrewd one
to boot. He came alone into a German communica-
tion trench beyond the reserve line. In a minute a
bright thought struck him, and as quickly as possible
he bundled the sandbags down into the trench, and
so formed a barricade. The Germans came back, just
as he had anticipated, and as they clambered over, so
he shot them. We got rid of thirteen in this way,
and the enemy gave up that passage and retired.

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

Captain Hamilton remained in this second line trench
reorganising and encouraging the men until the con-
solidation was well advanced. He was awarded the
Military Cross for his services. The official record
says, J' He had to be ordered back for medical attend-
ance. Indeed, the only way that could be found to
prevent Captain Hamilton from stubbornly going on
till he bled to death was to place him under arrest.

.The London Irish had thus magnificently succeeded
in the fask allotted to them— the capture of a section
of the German second line trenches. Carried away
by their excessive impetuosity, they also helped to
clear the Germans out of the village of Loos, which
they were among the first to enter. They were still
untroubled and unperplexed. "When the village was
about half cleared," says Rifleman T. J. Culley, in
a letter to Sister Celestine, of the Homes for Destitute
Catholic Children in London, "could you have peered
into one of the estaminets which was still inhabited,
you would have perceived one of the Irish calmly
asking a most attractive and business-like madame
for a cafe au lait, and being served amid torrents of
shot and shell ; and when he was finished he slung
his arms and calmly walked on to do further death-
dealing deeds." Culley adds that when the village
was eventually cleared some of the New Army passed
through the thinned ranks of the Territorials to carry
on the advance. "You may have noticed in the
papers," he says, "that the credit of capturing the
village went to the New Army. This is not so. The
Territorials, with the London Irish among their
leaders, should be given the honour."

But the real trial of the London Irish was now to
begin. The Germans on the Sunday launched a
tremendous counter-attack. Would the London Irish
be able to beat it back, and hold on to the trenches
they had taken until relief came? Again and again,
there seemed to be no possible escape from the

THE GREAT PUSH AT LOOS 127

destruction which imminently menaced them. "All
Monday passed and still no relief came," writes a rifle-
man of the battalion. "Indeed, it was a question
whether any minute we should not be blown to atoms
and the line swamped with a rush of the enemy.
We could hardly stand from fatigue, having been in
action steadily since Saturday morning. ' Fight on,
lads,' said an officer who was afterwards killed.
' Remember the Division looks to you. This is
bound to end sooner or later. Let it be in a way that
will never be forgotten when they hear of it at home
in London and Ireland.' So we fought on, and never
a single German got nearer than a dozen yards from
our lines. Soon we got the word that we should be
relieved early Tuesday morning under cover of the
darkness. The announcement sent a thrill of joy
through us, for then we knew we had won." As soon
as they got to the back trenches in safety a huge cheer
went up from all the others, "The London Irish —
flurroo! " "They shook us by the hands and took
our rifles from our grasp and the kits from our backs
in their eagerness to show their gratitude," says the
same rifleman.

The General in command of the Brigade who
stood and watched the battalion on their way to battle
on Friday night, addressed the remnant afterwards
and said : " Not only am I proud to have had the
honour of being in command of such a regiment, but
the whole Fmpire will be proud whenever, in after
years, the history of the battle of Loos comes to be
w ritten, for I can tell you it was the London Irish who
helped to save a whole British Army Corps. You
have done one of the greatest actions of the war."

Thus the London Irish raised themselves on the
pinnacle of a notable and conspicuous triumph. Thus
they earned for themselves the name of "The Foot-
ballers of Loos."

CHAPTER XI

THE VICTORIA CROSS

A NOBLE BAND OF IRISH HEROES, OFFICERS AND MEN

That plain Cross of bronze, with the simple motto,
"For Valour," is the most honoured and coveted mili-
tary decoration in the world. It has been won in the
present war, down to the end of 191 5, by as many as
twenty-one Irishmen, who have splendidly sustained
their country's inspiring heritage of bravery on the
battlefield.

Courage, bravery, valour, are, in a way, mysterious
attributes. We all understand what they mean ; we
all regard them as noble and heroic; we all desire to
be possessed of them. Yet we know that only to the few
comparatively do they belong; and in a puzzled mood
we ask ourselves — Why is it that in the face of death
in warfare one man should be fearless and another
timid and faint-hearted? It is supposed that most
men are naturally cowards. I remember hearing a
remarkable statement made by Archibald Forbes, a
famous war correspondent of the past, in a lecture on
his experiences as a journalist on the field of battle,
lie said there is infinitely less steadiness in the soldier
of any nationality under fire than the civilian imagines.

He had watched the conduct on the field of the armies

i«8

THE VICTORIA CROSS 129

of eight European nations, and there was never an
engagement in which he did not see what he called
"a stampede," or, more explicitly, soldiers flying in
the wild disorder of terror.

Forbes did not attempt to explain why this was
so. He simply recorded the fact. To me it seems
as if the quality which is commonly called cowardice
is but a form of fear, and fear is an instinctive emotion
which is to be seen displayed throughout the entire
animal kingdom. It shows itself at a very early, age
in the shrinking apprehensiveness of the infant. The
purpose of it appears to be that of self-protection and
self-preservation. One of its first impulses is to avoid
the danger which threatens by running away from it.
We see that in the action of a horse harnessed to a
vehicle which, by reason of a sudden fright, breaks
from human restraint, and dashes wildly through the
streets, endangering itself and everyone that crosses
its course. Man is also prone to take flight under the
pressure of fear for his life. Unlike the horse, he con-
trols his actions by reason, more or less. But to fly
from danger is, in most circumstances, allowable to
the civilian, under the law of self-preservation. He
can run away without any hurt to his self-esteem, or
any risk of being called a coward.

It is a crime for a soldier on the field to turn his
back on danger. Of course there is nothing despic-
able in a retirement under orders when faced with
overwhelming odds. We can see Wellington at Sala-
manca, caught in the melee of a British flight before
a dashing charge of French cavalry— as Maxwell saw
him. With his straight sword drawn, riding at full
speed, and smiling." He fled that he might live, and
win the battle. But the soldier must stand firm when
[he shells , are bursting terrifically around him and the
bullets whistle their death tune in his ears, or advance
undauntedly towards the hidden enemy, who thus

F

130 THE IRISH AT THE 'FRONT

menace him with death and mutilation, until a com-
mand or a bullet stops him.

Yet even in the soldier to shrink from pain, danger
and death is a natural impulse, for it is one of the
instincts of which no amount of training and dis-
cipline can entirely divest humanity. President
Abraham Lincoln was very reluctant to sanction the
execution of soldiers for cowardice during the
American Civil War. He used to say it was im-
possible for a man always to control his legs. "How
do I know," he would ask, "that 1 should not run
away myself? " Happily there are things which help
to sustain and embolden the soldier in that terrible
trial. Some of these enheartening influences are
external to the soldier himself. His country's cause
and the reputation of his regiment help to brace him
for the ordeal. The companionship of his comrades
in a common danger and the fury and tumult of battle
are also very animating. But in the last resort the
soldier must rely upon his own innate qualities, both
mental and physical. For bravery lies in the blood,
and courage in the mind, and valour is the combination
of the often thoughtless fire and dash of the one, and
the calculated enterprise and determination of the other.

Bearing these considerations always in mind, let
us never cast the contumelious stone, or say a bitter
word, against any regiment, or party of men, who
in war are overborne by the black terror of appre-
hension suddenly arising; but rather let us ever give
the greater honour and glory to those rare beings,
those supermen, who without a thought of self, dash
into the fiery blast to save a stricken comrade, or who
strike a ringing blow for their cause under the jaws of
horrid death, whose hands are stretched out to clutch

them. _ . .

In the light of these general reflections on human
nature U't ' us consider first the achievement ot

THE VICTORIA CROSS 131

Drummer William Kenny, who, though serving in the
2nd Battalion of the Gordon Highlanders, is a
Drogheda man. Near Ypres, on October 23rd, 191 4,
he exposed himself to heavy fire on five separate
occasions, in order to rescue wounded men. Twice
previously he saved machine-guns by carrying them
out of action. "Also on numerous occasions," says
the official record, "Drummer Kenny conveyed urgent
messages in very dangerous circumstances over fire-
swept ground." What makes Kenny's heroism very
remarkable is that it was not displayed in a single
instance, by one act; but was, as we see, repeated over
and over again, and in a variety of ways.

He is a very modest as well as fearless man. I saw
him at the Mansion House, London, one day in March,
1 ij 1 5, when he was presented with a gold watch by
the Lord Mayor, on behalf of the Musicians' Com-
pany. The first thing that caught my attention in his
appearance was the mingled kindliness and resolution
expressed in his face. It was obvious, from his shy
manner, that he was greatly embarrassed, if not made
(|tiite miserable, indeed, by being so much noticed,
and would have rather remained in the background.
"Thank you all," was his simple acknowledgment of
the Company's expressions of admiration and regard.
He is also a reticent man. Not a word did he say to
anyone about his exploits until the announcement that
he had been awarded the Victoria Cross appeared in
the newspapers. Even then, he declined to be re-
garded as a hero. " It was just what anyone would do
in the circumstances," he said. "There are many
others out there who have done the same thing, only
nobody knows it. You see some of your pals lying
out in the open under fire. You know it is they or
you; so you just go out and fetch them in." It was
the same in regard to his single-handed action in
saving the machine-guns. "The Maxims had to be

F 2

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

fetched," lie said; "and I did it. That's all." As a
case of unobtrusive and, indeed, unconscious heroism
that of Drummer Kenny would be hard to beat.

His native town of Drogheda has reason to be proud
of Kenny, and it showed its esteem in a splendid way.
On St. Patrick's Day, IQ15, the Mayor and Corpora-
tion went to High Mass with Kenny, who was accom-
panied by his mother and father; and afterwards, at
a public meeting in the square, attended by an enor-
mous crowd, the noble fellow was presented with a
cheque for £120, and the freedom of the borough.
When he wrote his name on the roll of Drogheda's
freemen, Kenny found among the preceding signa-
tures those of such famous historical personages as
the Duke of Ormond (1704); Henry Grattan (1782);
Sir Arthur Wellesley (1807); Isaac Butt (1877);
Charles Stewart Parnell (1881), and Sir Garnet
Wolseley (1882).

The deeds of three other Irishmen who have won
the Victoria Cross were, like those of Kenny, deeds
of mercy— the rescue of wounded comrades. For a
full appreciation of them it is necessary to understand
the awful plight of the soldiers who are stricken down
on the unsheltered open ground between the opposing
trenches. When the engagement in which the men
fell is over this space is swept, on the slightest move-
ment, by volleys from rifles and machine-guns. It is
often impossible, therefore, to bring timely help to the
wounded. At night only, in the sheltering darkness,
some of the least disabled wounded may be able to
crawl back to their trenches. Otherwise they have to
lie out there in the open while life ebbs away to the
most bitter torments. That is, unless there are at
hand men moved bv the unselfish and tender emotion
of pity, men susceptible to suffering, men of refined
and imaginative minds; and therefore able to project
themselves by the power of thought into the cruel

THE VICTORIA CROSS 133

Situation of their tortured and helpless mates, and
feel to the full all the horror of it; and men, too, whose
high ideal of duty and right conduct impel them
irresistibly to go out to succour, even at the risk of
meeting the same terrible fate themselves. Of such
noble men are Drummer Kenny, and also Lance-
Corporal Joseph Toombs, tst Battalion King's Liver-
pool Regiment, who comes from Warrenpoint, Co.
Down; Private Robert Morrow, I St Royal Irish
Fusiliers, a native of Co. Tyrone, and Private John
Caff rev, 2nd York and Lancaster Regiment, who
was born ai Birr, King's County, and has his home
in Nottingham.

The Official account of the achievements for which
Toombs was awarded the Victoria Cross is as
follows : —

"For most conspicuous gallantry near Rue du Bois on June
16th, 1915. On his own initiative he crawled out repeatedly
under a very heavy shell and machine-gun fire to bring in
wounded men who were lying about one hundred yards in front
of our trenches. He rescued four men, one of whom he
di 1 ged back by means of a rifle sling placed round his own
neck and the man's body. This man was so severely wounded
that unless he had been immediately attended to he must have
died."

Morrow got the V.C. "for most conspicuous bravery
near Messines, on April 12th, rgi 5, when he rescued
and carried successfully to places of comparative
safety several men who had been buried under the
debris of trenches wrecked by shell fire. Private
Morrow carried out this gallant work on his own
initiative and under very heavy fire from the enemy."
I am able to supplement this official record by a state-
ment made by one of the men who was saved by
Morrow : "The enemy opened fire unexpectedly. A
shell fell in the trench, burying over a dozen men, of
whom I was one, in the wreckage. Those who were
able ran to shelter, for that shell was followed by many

134 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

more; and the trench having been laid bare, the enemy
opened a hot rifle and machine-gun fire upon it. At
the same time the enemy was making an attack in
force. Accordingly it was a risky thing to be there.
Morrow didn't mind. He came up to where we were
pinned under the remains of the parapet and a dug-
out. He dragged me out and carried me on his back
to a place of safety. Then he went back to look for
others. He made the journey six times, bringing all
the men that were alive. It was slow, laborious work,
and all the time Morrow was under heavy fire from the
Germans."

On the same day that the notice of Private Morrow's
distinction was published, his death was announced
in the list of casualties. He was killed on April 25th,
1915, at St. Julien, while in the act of again succouring
the wounded. His widowed mother, at Newmills,
Dungannon, received the Victoria Cross that was
awarded to her gallant boy with an autograph letter
of sympathy from the King.

Private John Caffrey got the 'Victoria Cross for a
gallant display of bravery and humanity near La
Brique on November 1 6th, 1915. A man of the West
Yorkshire Regiment had been badly wounded, and was
K ing in the open, unable to move, in full view of, and
about 300 to 400 yards from, the enemy's trenches.
Corporal Stirk, Royal Army Medical Corps, and
Caff rev at once started out to rescue him, but at the
first attempt they were driven back by shrapnel fire.
Soon afterwards they started again, under close
sniping and machine-gun fire, and succeeded in reach-
ing and bandaging the wounded man, but, just as
Corporal .Stirk had lifted him on Private Caffrey's
back, he himself was shot in the head. Caffrey put
down the wounded man, bandaged Corporal Stirk,
and helped him back into safety. He then returned
and brought in the man of the West Yorkshire Regi-

THE VICTORIA CROSS 135

ment " He had made three journeys across the open,
underdose and accurate fire," says the official record,
"and had risked his own life to save others with the
utmost coolness and bravery."

No more moving story of the devotion of a private
to an officer, to whom he was regimentallv attached,
is to be found than that enshrined in the record of the
deed for which the Victoria Cross was given to Private
Thomas Kenny, 13th (Service) Battalion Durham
Light Infantry, part of "Kitchener's Army." Kenny,
aged thirty-three, was living with his wife and seven
children, and following the occupation of a quarry-
man, at Hart Bushes, a hamlet two miles outside
Wingate, County Durham, when on the outbreak of
war he joined the Army. His battalion was sent to
the front on August 25th, 1915. On the night of
November 4th, 1015. Kenny won the Victoria Cross
near La Houssoie, for conspicuous bravery and de-
votion to Lieutenant Brown of his battalion. The
deed is finely described in a letter written by Major
C. E. Walker, of the 13th Durham Light Infantry : —

" I just want to write to you to tell you how proud we all
are of vour husband, Pte. T. Kenny, for the magnificent pluck
and endurance he showed under very heavy fire when Lieut.
P. A. Brown was wounded. Your husband was what we call
' observer * to Lieut. Brown— that is to say, he acted as a sort
of shadow to his officer, who never moved anywhere without
him. The Lieutenant went out in front of our trenches in a
thick fog to superintend a party of our men mending our barbed
wire, Renny, as usual, accompanying him. They over-ran our
wirp and lost their bearings in the fog. Finding that they
were on unfamiliar ground they sat down to listen for sounds
to guide them. After a while they decided to go back. As
soon u they rose a rifle was fired from a listening post about
15 yards away. (They were only about 30 yards from the
enemy trenches, and a listening post runs out from their front
line.) Lieut. Brown fell, shot through both thighs. Kenny
at once went to his assistance, and although Lieut. Brown was
a good-sized man, got him slung on to his back and started off
with him.

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

The Germans in the listening post— there are generally four
to six there— opened rapid fire at him. He therefore dropped
to his hands and knees and began crawling, with the officer
still on his back. Lie t. Brown was hit about 9.45. Kenny
carried him in this manner, under heavy fire from the enemy
every time they heard him, for over an hour in spite of the
wet, clinging nature of the ground At last he came to a ditch
he recognised, and being utterly exhausted, he made the Lieu-
tenant as comfortable as he could and then started off for our
lines for help. He found an officer and a few mej of his
battalion at a listening post, and having guided them back to
where he had left his officer, Lieutenant Brown was brought
in still living, but died at the dressing station. His last words
were, ' Kenny— you're a hero 1 ' The General is delighted with
the pluck, endurance, and devotion shown by your husband, and
has recommended him for the Victoria Cross. Kenny is a
splendid fellow, and you may well be proud of him."

Lieutenant Brown's mother wrote from Beckenham,
Kent, to Kenny, expressing her deep gratitude for
his services to her son : "I am thankful to feel that
he died among friends and that he was able to thank
you," she says. "I know you will value his last
words He had often mentioned you to me in his
letters home, and talked of ' my observer Kenny, a
very nice Irishman from Co. Durham, who goes with
me everywhere.' Mis life had been a very different
one before this dreadful war, but he gave up every-
thing for pure patriotism."

These are rare, fine, and noble actions. They are
not necessarily actions which only a true soldier could
accomplish. They are the outcome of fortitude, that
spirit which supports a man to go through with a
tremendous task, involving pain of body and trouble
of mind, but a task from which his sense of duty
will not permit him to turn aside; and fortitude is a
quality found not uncommonly in the ordinary daily
round of civil life as well as on the battlefield. The
Other awards of the Victoria Cross to Irishmen were
made for deeds of quite a different character; real

THE VICTORIA CROSS

soldierly deeds, bold, dashing, and intrepid; deeds,
if not of reckless bravery, certainly of bravery reck-
less of life for the attainment of the purpose in view.
In a word, they are deeds more representative of the
traditional fiery fearlessness of Celtic valour.

There >s the case of Private Edward Dwyer, of the
East Surrey Regiment, who was born at Fulham,
London, of Irish parents, his father being a Galway
man and his mother a native of Omeath. I saw him
one sunny day in July, 1915, coming down the Strand
at the head of a recruiting procession, and his appear-
ance gave me at first a shock of surprise. I do not
know why it should be so, but it is the fact that we
usually associate intrepidity and resolution with men
of powerful physique and demeanour that suggests
fearlessness. Perhaos the illusion has taken its rise
from misty recollections of the heroes of the fiction-
reading of our you'h. That illusion has been dis-
pelled, for me, at least, by those V.C.-men of the war
whom I have seen, and I have seen several of them.
In all of them, without exception, I should say it was
the mind that told and not. so much the body. Dwyer
looked quite a boy, and one of small stature, too,
as he walked that day between two burly sergeants,
to whose shoulders his head just about reached. But
I could see the Victoria Cross of dark bronze and its
red ribbon on the left breast of his khaki tunic. His
hearty laughter and smiles told of his pride and joy
in the demonstration, of which he was the central
figure — silk-hatted men baring their heads to him;
women, young and old, pressing forward to kiss him ;
and the air filled with shoutings and the blare of brass
instruments. Then, from the plinth of the Nelson
Monument in Trafalgar Square, standing between two
of Landseer's great lions, he made a sprightly recruit-
ing speech. "I promise you this," said he, "a drink
and a cigar for the first ten recruits to come up here.

F*

I3» THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

Age is nothing. I was only sixteen when I joined.
I think the recruiting-sergeant must have been a little
short-sighted on purpose, because he enlisted me
without any trouble. Out at the Front there are men
who are grey-headed. Doesn't it shame you?" he
cried, turning sharply to the young men in the
crowd.

What was it that was done by this youngest of the
V.C.'s this stripling of eighteen who, before he
enlisted, was a messenger-boy to a greengrocer? He
displayed "most conspicuous bravery and devotion
to duty" at Hill 60 on April 20th, 1915; and he did
so in a very singular way. "When his trench was
heavily attacked by German grenade throwers," says
the official record, "he climbed on to the parapet,
and although subjected to a hail of bombs at close
quarters, succeeded in dispersing the enemy by the
effective use of his Hand grenades." Those vague,
general terms do not enable us to see the episode.
It discloses itself vividly in the terse sentences of
Dwyer himself : —

"All our chaps were either killed or wounded. I was the
only unwounded man left in the trench. The Germans were
in a trench only fifteen yards away, so close that I could hear
them talking in their lingo. I knew that if they took the
trench I was in it would be a bad job for our trenches behind.
So I collected all the hand grenades left in our trench until I
had about a hundred in all. There were three steps leading up
to the parapet of the trench. For a while 1 sat crouched on the
middle step. Then I found myself on the parapet hurling
grenades at the Germans. Shells and hand bombs were burst-
ing all over and around me, but nothing touched me at all. 1
kept on throwing until help came and the trench was safe.
I was pretty well done up whe. I jumped down into the
trench, mad with joy and without a scratch. 1 he relieving
party chaffed me a lot, and called me ' The King of the Hand
Grenades.'"

Dwyer gives an interesting account of his sensa-
tions in battle. As a rule, introspection in such

THE VICTORIA CROSS 139

circumstances is almost impossible, for the mind,
when concentrated solely on the existing situation
and strained with excitement almost to the cracking
point, cannot well observe itself; but Dwyer is made
Of uncommon stuff mentally as well as physically.
"Fear is a funny thing," he says. "It gets at you in
all kinds of curious ways. When we've been skir-
mishing in open order under heavy fire I've felt
myself go numb. Then the blood has rushed into
my face — head and ears become as hot as fire, and
the tip of my tongue swollen into a blob of blood.
It isn't nice, I can tell you ; but the feeling passes and
one's nerves become steadier." He added what
showed his real mettle: "I've never expected to get
out of any fight I've ever been in. And so I just
try to do my bit, and leave it at that." Dwyer made
a most successful recruiter for the Irish regiments, in
which, on account of his nationality, he specially
interested himself.

Turning now for a while from the Irish privates
to the Irish regimental officers who have won the
V.C., we find the same pluck, endurance, and devotion
to duty displayed. Second Lieutenant George Arthur
Boyd-Rochfort, of the 1st Battalion Scots Guards,
is a type of the Irish gentry who have contributed
to the British Army so remarkably large a number
of gallant regimental officers and distinguished com-
manders, from the Duke of Wellington to Viscount
French of Ypres. He had done no soldiering before
the present war. The eldest son of the late Major
K. H. Boyd-Rochfort, of the 15th Hussars, he
succeeded to the family property at Middleton Park,
Westmeath. Aged thirty-five, and the head of his
family, all his interests centred in the work of the
estate. Yet when the war broke out Mr. Boyd-
Rochfort felt it his duty to join the Army, so that
he might serve his country along with his younger

140 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

brothers— Captain H. Boyd-Rochfort, of the 21st
Lancers (now Brigade-Major of the 21st Cavalry
Brigade), and Lieutenant Cecil Boyd-Rochfort, of the
Scots Guards. To qualify himself physically for a
commission in the Scots Guards he had to undergo
two operations, which confined him to hospital for
close on five months. He got his commission in
April, 1 9 1 5, went to the Front in June, and won the
Victoria Cross on August 3rd, in the trenches between
Cambria and La Bassee.

Lieutenant Boyd-Rochfort was afterwards wounded
in a single-handed fight with two Germans — he
knocked one down with the butt-end of his empty
revolver and the other with his fist — and was invalided
home, when the whole countryside turned out to do
him honour. He gave the following account of his
exploit : —

"It was at break of day, just before we were ordered to
' stand to,' we were working in the first line of trendies, and
a trench that was nothing more than a graveyard. The first
German trench was no more than fifty yards away, and thtir
mortars and rifle grenades were simply spilling into us. Our
trench was getting badly knocked about by the flying missiles.
You must distinguish between these mortars and shells, because
the mortars have a time fuse which explodes them without
striking. I was just raising my head over the front of the
trench, and, hearing the whiz, I said to my men, ' Look out.'
Down they went. The bomb landed, and started to roll down
from the top of the trench. I dashed forward and seized it,
and threw it over the top of trench. Scarcely had it left my
hand and reached the outside of the trench than it exploded
with a terrific report. We were all buried under falling earth,
l)ul fortunately no one was hurt, although my cap was blown
to pieces. My men were verv appreciative of my action, and
. hernd and thanked me. Afterwards they wrote and signed
a statement of what I had done, which they handed to the
Colonel. "

Another gallant Meath man was the late Lieutenant
Maurice James Dease, 4th Bait. Royal Fusiliers (City

THE VICTORIA CROSS

141

of London Regiment), who fell during the retreat from
Mons, and was the first officer to gain the Victoria
Cross in the great war. He was the only son of Mr.
Fdmund F. Dease, Culmullen, Drumree, Meath, and
heir-presumptive to his uncle, Major Gerald Dease, of
Turbotston, Westmeath. He was born September
28th, 1889, and was educated at Stonyhurst and at the
Army Class, Wimbledon College. He entered the
Royal Military College, Sandhurst, and was gazetted
Second Lieutenant in the Royal Fusiliers in February,
1910, becoming Lieutenant in 1912. In the same year
he was apointed machine-gun officer to his regiment,
and it was whilst in command of this section at Nimy,
near Mons. on August 23rd, 1914, that Lieutenant
Dease was killed and awarded the Victoria Cross. The
official record is as follows : —

" During the action the machine-guns were protecting the
• nosing over a canal bridge, and Lieutenant Dease was several
times severely wounded, but refused to leave the guns. He
remained at his post until all the men of his detachment were
either killed or wounded and the guns put out of action by
the enemy's fire."

From the South of Ireland came the late Captain
Gerald Robert O'Sullivan, 1st Royal Inniskilling
Fusiliers, who won the V.C. in Gallipoli. A son of the
late Lieutenant-Colonel George Ledwill O'Sullivan,
91st Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, and of Mrs.
O'Sullivan, of Rowan House, Dorchester, he was
born at Frankfield, near Douglas, county Cork, and
spent most of his boyhood in Dublin. He passed
into Sandhurst in 1907, and was gazetted to the Innis-
killings on May 15th, 1909. Captain O'Sullivan was
awarded the V.C. for conspicuous gallantry on two
occasions, the official record of his deeds being as
follows : —

" For most conspicuous bravery during the operations south-
west of Krithia, on th- Gallipoli Peninsula. On the night of

142 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

July ist-2nd, 1915, when it was essential that portion of a
trench which had been lost should be regained, Captain
O'Sullivan, although not belonging to the troops at this point,
volunteered to lead a party of bomb-throwers to effect the re-
capture. He advanced in the open under very heavy fire, and
in order to throw his bombs with greater effect got up on the
parapet, where he was completely exposed to the fire of the
enemy occupying the trench. He was finally wounded, but not
before his inspiring example had led on his party to make
further efforts, which resulted in the capture of the trench. On
the night of June i8th-i9th, 1915, Captain O'Sullivan saved a
critical situation in the same locality by his great personal
gallantry and good leading."

This gallant officer is believed to have been killed
during the attack on Hill 70, or Burnt Hill, at Suvla
Bay, on August 21st, 1915. He advanced at the head
of "his men to the second line of Turkish trenches,
where he fell. The body was not recovered.

From the North of Ireland came the late Captain
Anketell Moutray-Read, of the 1st Northamptonshire
Regiment, who was killed on the night of September
24.25th, 1915, at the Battle of Loos, and was post-
humously awarded the Victoria Cross. He was the
youngest son of the late Colonel John Moutray-Read,
of Aghnacloy, County Tyrone, and one of his
ancestors was High Sheriff of the county as far back-
et 1-21. Owing to casualties in the Northamptons
Captain Moutmv-Road was in temporary command
of the battalion when he fell. The official record of
the award of the Victoria Cross is as follows : —

For most conspicuous bravery during the first attack near
Huluch™' the morning of September 25th, 1015. Although
ESS gassed, Captain Road went out severa times ,r .order
dlv parties of different units which were disorganised land
Hi" g.' He led them back into the fir.nR line, and, J utterly
rarardTess of danger, moved freely about encouraging them

THE VICTORIA CROSS

143

.arried out of action an officer, who was mortally wounded,
under a hot fire from rifles and grenades."

In all the theatres of war representatives of that
famous fighting stock, the Irish gentry, are to be
found defending the British Empire by maintaining
the martial reputation of their race. At Shariba,
Mesopotamia, the late Major George Godfrey Massy
Wheeler, 7th Hariana Lancers, Indian Army, won the
Victoria Cross for "most conspicuous bravery." He
was a descendant of General Sir Hugh Massy
Wheeler, whose son, John George Wheeler, was
married to a Miss Massy, of Kingswell House,
Tipperary. "On April 12th, 1915." says the official
record, "Major Wheeler asked permission to take out
his squadron and attempt to capture a flag which was
the centre point of a group of the enemv who were
firing on one of our pickets. He advanced and
attacked the enemy's infantry with the lance, doing
considerable execution amongst them. He then re-
tired while the enemy swarmed out of hidden ground
and formed an excellent target to our Royal Horse
Artillery guns. On April 13th, 1015. Major Wheeler
led his squadron to the attack of the ' North Mound.'
He was seen far ahead of his men, riding single-
handed straight for the enemy's standards. This
gallant officer was killed on the mound."

In another far-distant and remote field of operations,
the German protectorate of the Cameroons, West
Africa, a scion of the same stock of Irish gentry like-
wise achieves glorv, leading blacks against blacks led
by Germans. There the hero is Captain John
Fitzharding Paul Butler, of the famous Butlers of
Ormond, Tipperary, attached to the Pioneer Com-
pany, Gold Coast Regiment, West African Frontier
Force. "On November 17th, 1014," says the record,
"with a party of thirteen men, he went into the thick

144 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

brush and attacked the enemy, in strength about one
hundred, including several Europeans, defeated them
and captured their machine-guns, and many loads of
ammunition. On December 27th, 1914, when on
patrol duty with a few men, he swam the Ekan River,
which was held by the enemy, completed his recon-
naissance on the further bank, and returned in safety.
Two of his men were wounded while he was actually
in the water." Bald as the story is, thus officially
told, it kindles the imagination, and we can picture
the wild and hazardous life led bv this adventurous
Irishman in that mysterious land of mountain and
forest.

The Brookes of Colebrooke have been settled in
Fermanagh since the time of Queen Elizabeth. If
you look through Burke's "Peerage and Baronetage"
you will see that in every generation the family have
given sons to the Arn.y and Navy. Lieutenant
J. A. O. Brooke (grandson of the late Sir Arthur
Brinsley Brooke of Colebiooke, baronet), 2nd Gordon
Highlanders, has crowned the martial reputation of
the family by winning the Victoria Cross. Near
Gheluvelt, on October 29th, 1914, he led two attacks
on the German trenches under heavy rifle and
machine-gun fire, and regained a lost trench at a very
critical time. He was killed at the moment of success.
"By his marked coolness and promptitude on this
occasion," says the official record, "Lieutenant Brooke
prevented the enemy from breaking through our line
at a time when a general counter-attack could not
have been organised." Two Victoria Crosses have
thus been won for the Gordon Highlanders by Irish-
men— Drummer Kenny and Lieutenant Brooke.

(HAPTHU XII

"FOR VALOUR"

STORIES OF OTHER V.C.'S, INCLUDING MICHAEL O'LEARY,
WHO L'PHELD IRELAND'S TRADITION OF GALLANTRY

In order to be able rightly to appreciate the honour
and glory of the Victoria Cross, it is necessary to
know the conditions regulating its bestowal. A
tradition has been established in the Services, though
there is nothing in the institution of the Victoria
Cross really to warrant it, that the decoration is to
be given only for a deed not done under orders. The
deed must be a signal one in every respect — excep-
tionally daring, and difficult, of the highest military
value, particularly in the saving of life, and, with all
this, absolutely voluntary.

Nevertheless, it will be noticed that in none of the
deeds of all these bold, brave, and intrepid Irishmen
is there the slightest suggestion of seeking fame and
glory at the cannon's mouth. "I almost gasped,"
said Private Dwyer, "when I was told I was awarded
the V.C." Each of the others appears to have been
likewise unconscious of his heroism. He did not go
and do what he did, thinking of being mentioned in
despatches or decorated. He was concerned only
about doing what at the moment he felt to be his
duty. Fame and glory were probably never farther
from his thoughts than at the very time he was

>45

146

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

winning them for ever. For the roll of the Victoria
Cross, on which his name and deed are com-
memorated, is imperishable; and his glorious memory
will shine as long as Great Britain and Ireland
endure.

For sheer daring, contempt of risks, resourcefulness,
and extraordinary physical powers, a high place must
be given to the action by which Corporal William Cos-
grave, 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, won the Victoria
Cross in Gallipoli. It took place on April 26th, 1915,
the day after the famous landing of the Dublins and
Munsters at "Beach V," when the survivors of these
battalions were advancing to the attack on the Turkish
positions on the heights of Sedd-el-Bahr. The first
defensive obstacles encountered were barbed wire
entanglements of exceptional strength and intricacy,
behind which was a trench of enemy riflemen and
machine-guns. "Those entanglements," says Sir Ian
Hamilton, "were made of heavier metal and longer
barbs than I have ever seen elsewhere." A party of
the Munsters were sent forward to cut them down,
but the men's pliers had not strength and sharpness
enough to snip the wires. Then it was that Cosgrave,
a giant in stature and vigour — 6 ft. 5 in. in height
and only twenty-three years of age — "pulled down
the posts of the enemy's high wire entanglements
single-handed, notwithstanding a terrific fire from
both front and flanks, thereby greatly contributing to
tin- successful clearing of the heights," to quote the
official record. The deed has a distinction peculiarly
its own, for it is the onlv thing of the kind to be
found in the long roll of the Victoria Cross.

Cosgrave was wounded in the bayonet charge which
subsequently carried the trench. A bullet struck him
in the side, and passing clear through him splintered
his backbone. He was invalided home to Aghada. a
little fishing hamlet in County Cork, where he was

"FOR VALOUR"

147

born and reared and worked as a farm boy until be
enlisted in 1910. Seen there, he told the story of his
exploit, as one of the party of fifty Munsters ordered
to rush forward and remove the entanglements: —

" Sergeant-Major Bennett led us, but just as we made a
dash a storm of lead was concentrated on us; Sergeant-Major
Bennett was killed with a bullet through his brain. I then
took charge and shouted to the boys to come on. The dash
was quite one hundred yards, and I don't know whether I ran
or prayed the faster. I wanted to succeed in my work, and I
also wanted to have the benefit of dying with a prayer in my
mind. Some of us having got up to the wires we started to
cut them with the pliers, but you might as well try to cut the
round tower at Cloyne with a pair of lady's scissors. The wire
was of great strength, strained like fiddle strings, and so full
of spikes that you coulu not get the pliers between. Heavens !
I thought we were done; I threw the pliers from me. ' Pull
them up 1 ' I roared to the fellows ; and I dashed at one of the
upright posts, put my arms round it, and heaved and strained
at it until it came up in my arms, the same as you would lift
a child.

" I believe there was great cheering when they saw what I
was at, but I only heard the scrsam of bullets and saw dust
rising all round me.. Where they hit I do not know, or how
many posts I pulled up. I did my best, and the boys that were
with me did every bit as good as myself.

"When the wire was down the rest of the lads came through
like devils and reached the trenches. We won about 200 yards'
length by twentv vards deep and 700 yards from the shore.
We met a brave,' h'onojrable foe in the Turks, and I am sorry
that such decent fighting men were brought into the row by
such dirty tricksters as the Germans."

In Sir Ian Hamilton's despatch describing the
storming of "Beach W "—close to "Beach V '—by
the Lancashire Fusiliers, there are some striking pas-
sages relating to men of the battalion who rushed
forward to cut passages through the entanglements.
"Again the heroic wire-cutters came out. Through
glasses thev could be seen quietly snipping away
under a hellish fire, as if they were pruning a vine-
yard." For his gallantry in this undertaking Private

148

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

William Keneally, one of the many Irishmen in the
Lancashires, got the Victoria Cross. The distinction
is greatly enhanced by the fact that Keneally was
selected by his comrades in the ranks as the one
among them best entitled to it. The official record
says : —

"On April 25th, 1915, three companies and the Headquarters
of the 1st Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers, in effecting- a landing
on the Gallipoli Peninsula to the west of Cape Helles, were met
by a very deadly fire from hidden machine-guns which caused
a great number of casualties. The survivors, however, rushed
up to and cut the wire entanglements, notwithstanding the
terrific fire from the enemy, and, after overcoming supreme
difficulties, the cliffs were gained and the position maintained.
Amongst the many very gallant officers and men engaged in
this most hazardous undertaking, Captain Willis, Sergeant
Richards, and Private Keneally have been selected by their
comrades as having performed the most signal acts of bravery
and devotion to duty."

Precedents for the choice of a comrade by his
fellows to wear the V.C. on their behalf are to be
found in the records of the Indian Mutiny, and it is an
interesting fact that in each case the man chosen was
an Irishman serving in an English or Scottish regi-
ment. In September, 1857, the Cross was awarded to
Private John Divane, of the 60th King's Roval Rifles,
for successfully heading a charge against the trenches
at Delhi. Divane was elected by the privates of his
regiment for the distinction. In November of the
same year Lance-Corporal J. Dunley, 93rd High-
landers, the first man of the regiment to enter the
Secundra Bagh with Captain Burroughs, whom he
supported against heavy odds, was similarly chosen
by his comrades for ihe'V.C, and likewise Lieutenant
A. K. Ffrench, .S.^rd Regiment, who showed distin-
guished gallant rv on the same occasion, was elected
by his brother officers to wear the decoration.

Keneally was born in Parnell Street, Wexford, in

" FOR VALOUR"

149

1886. I lis lather, Colour-Sergeant John Stephen
Keneally, served for twenty-four years in the Royal
Irish Regiment. In 1890 Keneally's parents removed
to Wigan. The father got work as a miner in the
Wigan coalfield, and the son, at the age of thirteen,
started in the same life as a pit-boy. William after-
wards joined the Army, served for six years, and on
returning to civil life worked again in the pits. On
the outbreak of war he rejoined his old regiment, the
Lancashire Fusiliers, and was then one of five brothers
serving with the Colours. The brave fellow did not
survive to enjoy the honour of having the V.C. pinned
to his breast by the King. He was wounded on
July 29th, 1915, in the course of an attack on a Turkish
position, which was repulsed, and was never seen after-
wards. "It is a matter of sincere regret to me," says
the King in a kindly letter to the hero's father, "that
the death of Private Keneally deprived me of the
pride of personally conferring on him the Victoria
Cross — the greatest of all military distinctions."

For quite a different achievement the Victoria Cross
was awarded to Sergeant John Hogan, 2nd Battalion
Manchester Regiment, an Irish lad who was brought
up at Oldham, Lancashire. On October 29th, 1914,
Hogan and Second Lieutenant Leach (who also got
the V.C.) recaptured unassisted a trench that had been
lost by the regiment. Two attempts to retake the
trench in force having been repulsed, Leach and Hogan
voluntarily set out one morning to try to recover it
themselves. The trench was about sixty yards'
distance from the nearest German trench. It did not
run in a straight line, but took a zig-zag course, con-
sisting of a number of traverses in this form : —

150 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

1 hough it was held by the Germans, its connection
with the other British trenches was not cut off. Start-
ing at one end of the trench, Leach and Hogan drove
the Germans out of each traverse, one after the other,
by putting their right hands round each corner and
firing their revolvers, while they kept their bodies con-
cealed. It happened that the Germans were armed
only with rifles, and those weapons they could not
use without exposing themselves to the revolver fire
of their attackers. Thus favoured, Leach and Hogan
advanced by crawling on their stomachs, capturing
corner after corner, and section after section, until they
got near to the other end of the trench, when they
heard a voice exclaiming in English, "Don't shoot;
the Germans want to surrender." The speaker was
one of their own men, who had been taken prisoner
by the Germans when they captured the trench. Alto-
gether Leach and Hogan killed eight Germans,
wounded twenty, and took sixteen prisoners. It was a
peculiar exploit, cleverly planned, and daringly
executed. The story of how Private John Lynn, 2nd
Lancashire Fusiliers, a County Tyrone man, won the
V.C., is inspiring for its bravery and endurance. Near
Ypres on May 2nd, 1915, as the Germans were ad-
vancing behind their wave of asphyxiating gas,
Private Lynn, although almost overcome by the
deadly fumes, handled his machine-gun with very
great effect against the enemy, and when he could not
sec them he moved his gun higher up on the parapet,
which enabled him to bring even more effective fire
in bear, and eventually checked any further advance.
The great courage displayed by this soldier had a
fine effect on his comrades in the very Irving circum-
stances. He died the following day from the effects
of gas poisoning.

"It's a long, long way to Tipperary," says the
soldier's favourite song. But, long as it is, Sergeant

"FOR VALOUR"

151

James Somers, 1st Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers,
brought there the Victoria Cross from Gallipoli, when
he came home invalided to stay with his parents at
Cloughjordan, in September, 1915. Naturally, the
Tipperary village was decorated, and the hero was
received by Tipperary crowds, with bands and
banners; and. better still, War Loan stock to the value
of ^,240, subscribed for by as many as 1,500 of the
local Tipperary community, was presented to him
at a public meeting by Major-General Friend, Com-
mander of the Forces in Ireland. At the meeting
Mr. B. Trench, secretary to the reception committee,
made the remarkable statement that out of a total
nt eighty Victoria Crosses then awarded for services
in the war eighteen had been won by Irishmen.
"If the people of Great Britain had done as well,"
said Mr. Trench, "they ought, according to their
population, to have received 220 Victoria Crosses."

Sergeant Somers is a well-built, good-looking young
fellow of twenty-one, full of high spirits, and was
boyishly delighted with all the attention paid to him
in Ireland. His father was for several years sexton
in the parish church, Belturbet, county Cavan ; and
lie himself was a footman in Bantry House, county
Cork, before he joined the Inniskilling Fusiliers in
1912. Like Dwyer, of the East Surreys, he got the
V.C. for a daring bombing exploit. The official record
of the award is as follows : —

" For most conspicuous bravery. On the night of July ist-
2nd, 1015, in the southern zone of the Gallipoli Peninsula,
uhere, owing to hostile bombing', some of our troops had
retired from a sap, Sergeant Somers remained alone on the
^pot until a party brought up bombs He then climbed over
into the Turkish trench, and bombed the Turks with great
effect. Later he advanced into the open, under heavy fire,
and held back the enemy by throwing bombs into their flank
until a barricade had been established. During this period
he frequently ran to and from cur trenches to obtain fresh

152 THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

supplies of bombs. By his gallantry and coolness Sergeant
Somers was largely instrumental in effecting the recapture of
portion of our trench which had been lost."

Recounting his experiences, Sergeant Somers said
that the Turks advanced to the trenches and com-
pelled the Gurkhas and the Inniskillings to retire.
He alone stopped in the trench, refusing to leave.
He shot many Turks with his revolver, killed about
fifty with bombs, and forced them to retire. The
enemy, however, rushed into a sap trench, and he
commenced to bombard them out of it, but twice he
failed. Just before dawn he stole away for the
purpose of getting men up to the trench to occupy
it. Some of the officers said it was impossible to
put the Turks out; but Somers returned to the posi-
tion, taking with him a supply of grenades, under
rifle and Maxim-gun fire, and eventually succeeded
in bombing the Turks out of the sap trench. He
had one narrow escape on the morning of July 2nd
—a splinter struck him across the spine, but he rained
in the bombs, until he fell from loss of blood and
fatigue in the afternoon. By that time, however, the
trench had been recaptured. The Turks retreated
crying, "Allah! Allah!" and "We gave them La
La," said Somers with great glee. Somers tells all
about it with great enthusiasm, and constantly
recurring in his stories is the phrase, "I did my
duty," or "General Sir Ian Hamilton told me when
he made me King's Sergeant on the field that I did
my duty"; and again, "I want to get back to duty."
That was the main idea in this young Irishman's
mind.

" For helping to bring the guns into action under heavy fire
;it Nery, near Compiegne, on September ist, 1914, and, while
severely wounded, remaining with them until all ammunition
was exhausted, although he had been ordered to retire to
cover."

FOR VALOUR

153

This is the brief and cold official account of the
thrilling deed for which the Victoria Cross was given
to Sergeant David Nelson, L Battery, Royal Horse
Artillery, a native of Derraghlands, Stranooden, county
Monaghan. In all retreats the artillery is seriously
handicapped, and it was so with the British artillery
in the retreat from Mons. Still, they made many a
gallant fight. One which stands out most con-
spicuously is that of L Battery, which fought for
hours with one gun, and although outnumbered eight
to one, succeeded in silencing the German artillery.

The battery of six guns had camped for the night
by a farmhouse. At dawn, as they were watering
their horses before continuing the retirement, they
were shelled by a German battery of eight guns
posted on a height overlooking the farm, not 700
yards away. This hill had been evacuated during
the night by French cavalry without having given
notice to the British. So fierce and destructive was
the fire of the Germans that four guns of the L
Battery were disabled, and many of the men and
officers were stricken down within a few minutes.
The survivors rushed to the two other guns and
brought them into action. The fifth gun was quicklv
silenced bv the killing of its entire detachment. It
was the sixth gun, served by Nelson and three other
men — Sergeant-Major Dornell, Gunner Derbyshire,
and Driver Osborne — that, despite all the painful and
distracting incidents happening in the farmyard, was
worked with such speed and cool and deadly accuracy
that the Germans were compelled to depart. The
British gun was crippled and almost completely
shattered, but it was saved. All the heroic gunners
were badlv wounded, and all were decorated. Nelson
had one of his ribs so crushed in that it pressed upon
his right lung. On his recovery he was promoted
to a second lieutenancy.

154

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

The official record of the services of the ist Cana-
dian Division in Flanders shows that the late Com-
pany Sergeant-Major William Hall, 8th Canadian
Infantry, who won the Victoria Cross near Ypres, was
a native of Belfast. Hall was awarded the coveted
distinction in the following circumstances : "On April
24tn> 1915, in the neighbourhood of Ypres, when a
wounded man who was lying some fifteen vards from
the trench called for help, Company Sergeant-Major
Hall endeavoured to reach him in the face of a very
heavy enfilade fire which was being poured in by the
enemy. The first attempt failed, and a non-com-
missioned officer and a private soldier who were
attempting to give assistance were both wounded.
Company Sergeant-Major Hall then made a second
most gallant attempt, and was in the act of lifting
up the wounded man to bring him in when he fell
mortally wounded in the head." Sir Max Aitken,
M.P., who has written the official record, states that
Hall was originally from Belfast, but his Canadian
home was in Winnipeg. He joined the 8th Battalion
at Valcartier, Quebec, in August, 1914, as a private.

Finally we come to the epic of Michael O'Leary,
of the Irish Guards, which remains the finest and most
amazing feat of the war. I remember well that after-
noon of Friday, February 19th, 1915, when the
announcement of the award of the Victoria Cross to
O'Leary was given to the public. It was sent out
in the afternoon, so that it first appeared in the
('veiling newspapers. The record was one of a dozen,
each of which told a tale of thrilling adventure.
Yet all the London evening papers with one accord
seized upon the exploit of O'Feary's capture, single-
handed, <>f two enemy barricades— thus saving his
comrades from being mowed down by a machine-
gun -and killing eight Germans in the process, as
the "splash" line for their contents bills. "How

"FOR VALOUR"

155

Michael O'Leary Won the V.C." "How Michael
O'Leary, V.C, Kills Eight Germans and Takes Two
Barricades." "The Wonderful Story of Michael
O'Leary, V.C." Thus the streets of London flashed
and resounded with the name of Michael O'Leary
— that name which sounds so musically, and so
irresistibly suggests the romance and dare-devildom
of the Irish race, and under its spell people rushed
to read the story of his deed. What appealed to the
imagination was the touch of strangeness and fantasy
in the exploit. I low curious it all is, when one comes
to think of it ! As one is walking along a London
street a name suddenly emerges out of the unknown,
and lo ! it is fixed in the memory with a halo for
ever.

1 1 was in the brickfields at Cuinehy, on February
isl, 1915, that Michael O'Leary won his enduring
lame. Taken by surprise, the Coldstream Guards had
lost a trench and failed to recapture it. The Irish
Guards, who were in reserve, were told to have a try.
NO. 1 Company, in which O'Leary was Lance-
( lorporal, formed the storming party. They were only
t<><> glad of any excuse to get out of the mud and
slush of their trenches. Before the main body ad-
vanced across the open ground — a brickfield, with
here and there a stack of bricks — O'Leary, who, in
fact, was off duty, and need not have joined in the
attack at all, slipped away to the left towards a railway
Cutting. He had set out spontaneously on his own
initiative to give the enemy a bit of a surprise. What
would be the nature of the surprise, O'Learv himself
did not quite know at the moment. It would all
depend upon the development of the situation and the
actual circumstances when the time came for him to
decide. But for days before as he lay in the trenches
he had brought his powers of observation into play,
and having grasped all the essential details of the

156

THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

geographical situation and the military position, he
reasoned out a plan with himself.

According to that plan, the first thing he had to do
was to get into the railway cutting on his left. This
he did with all speed, and very soon afterwards he
re-ascended to the top of the embankment and found
himself almost in a direct line with the first German
barricade, one of the brick stacks, about twenty or
thirty yards square, and about twenty feet high and
solid. With five shots he killed as many of the
German defenders. Then seeing the headlong and
irresistible dash of his comrades across the field he
came to the conclusion that the remaining Germans
had no chance of escape. So he quickly disappeared
down the railway cutting once more, and again came
up to the top on the right front of the second German
barricade. Here there was a machine-gun. In fact
the officer in command had just slewed round the gun
on the Irish Guards still busy at the first barricade,
and had his finger on the button to let go the hail
of lead upon them when he was dropped by a bullet
from O'Leary's rifle. Michael also shot two other
Germans, and the remaining five surrendered by
putting up their hands to the deadlv, unerring marks-
man on the embankment.

Thus it happened that when the No. i Company of
the Irish Guards got to the second barricade without
a single casualty, instead of, as they had expected,
serious loss of life, their surprise was turned into
amazement on seeing O'Leary there before them in
sole and complete possession of the place, with a
German machine-gun and five prisoners as spoil.
"How the divil did you gel here, Mike! " Such was
the exclamation of O'Leary's intimate comrades. Mike
only realised that he had done something of import-
ance and value, as well as of splendid gallantry, when
officers and men crowded round him to shake his

"FOR VALOUR"

157

hand. The commanding officer, Major the Hon. J. F.
Trefusis, promoted him full sergeant on the field.

There must always be an element of chance or luck
in such an abnormal achievement. But it is the man
that is the thing. All the good fortune in the world
would be without avail if the man were not ot an
exceptional type, possessed of perfect courage, mar-
vellous self-confidence, and supreme resolution. Not
less wonderful than what O'Leary did was the de-
liberate and efficient way in which he accomplished it.
lie knew that death might come at any moment. But
he put the fear immediately aside lest it might in the
least unnerve him in the pursuit of his purpose.
Everything showed that he was in full possession of
all his faculties.

What the United Kingdom thought of the deed was
expressed by London in the tumultuous welcome
which it gave to Sergeant Michael O'Leary, when, in
his war-stained uniform, he drove through the streets
with Mr. T. P. O'Connor, to speak in Hyde Park on
Saturday afternoon, July 10th, 1915. There was
terrific crushing and rushing on the part of hundreds
of thousands of people eager to catch a glimpse of the
hero a slim youth of twenty-five, in khaki, with fair
hair, and a pleasant smile lighting up his blue eyes
and freckled face. No wonder, indeed. As Conan
Doyle, the novelist, remarked : "No writer of fiction
would dare to fasten such an achievement on any of
his characters." And only a few years before
Michael was helping to mind his father's stock on a
little farm at Inchigeela, County Cork. So they made
him an officer, Lieutenant O'Leary, of one of the
Tvneside Irish battalions of the Northumberland
Fusiliers. And rightly so, for he proved himself to
be possessed of all the qualities of a leader — observa-
tion and reasoning, quick to receive impressions, and
quick to act upon them resource, daring, and yet

i5« THE IRISH AT THE FRONT

discretion, coolness and self-mastery in an enterprise
of difficulty and danger. The two most damnable
drawbacks on the field of battle are unpreparedness
and slowness in officers, and stolidness and lack of
initiative in men.

Well, Michael himself was never able fullv to appre-
ciate the gallantry of his action. What could be more
modest than his letter to his father and mother on the
subject : —

"Dear Parents — I know you will be glad to hear
that I am awarded the Victoria Cross for conspicuous
gallantry in the field. Hoping all are well, as I my-
self am in the best of health. From your fond son —
Michael."

There is the same simplicity, with a touch of
humour, in the remark he made when being seen off
at Victoria Station after all his glorification in
London :— "It's glad I am to be going back to the
•trenches for a bit of a rest." And the only man in the
whole wide world to show any desire to disparage
Michael's exploit was Michael's father himself. The
old man was asked if he was surprised at his son's
bravery. "Surprised, is it! " he exclaimed. "What
I am surprised at is that he didn't do more. Sure
often myself 1 laid out ten Irishmen with a stick
coming from Macroom Fair when I was a gossoon like
Mick — Irishmen, mind you, an' stout hearty lads at
that same. An' it was rather a bad fist Mick made of
it that he could kill only eight Germans, and lie having
a rifle and bayonet." How is that for the old Irish
spirit ?

THE END

HUNTED IN <;ni:at BRITAIN BV R. CLAY and sons, ltd.
BRUNSWICK STKKliT STAMFORD, STRKET, S.B. AND UUNC.AV, SUFFOLK.

~?Mr. John E. Redmond, M.P., and Mr. R. Barry
O'Brien have issued an address in behalf of the Irish
Suns of Ypres, some extracts from which we publish
below.

THE IRISH NUNS OF YPRES

AN APPEAL

Thb siory of the Irish Nuns of Ypres is bound up with
ihe story of Ireland. They represent not only a religious
Order, but the national ideal as well. They stand for Faith
and Fatherland. More than two hundred years ago an Irish
Benedictine Community of Nuns was established in Big Ship
Street, Dublin. Then came the war of the "Revolution" and
the renewal of the international struggle between England and
Ireland. . . .

The Dutchman whom the English made King offered
security to the Irish Benedictine Nuns, should thev elect to
i.-in.iin in their own land; but, as if visions of the future
passed before them, they trusted him not. They sought an
asylum beyond the seas, where, amid the vicissitudes of
fortune, they ever turned their thoughts to Ireland, and in
Ihe days of her agony ceased not to pray for her redemption.
.They took Up their abode in Belgium; they made Ypres
their home; and their convent, in its turn, became the refuge
Of many Irish exiles driven by injustice and oppression from
ih<- land of their birth. Wars swept over Europe. Belgium
was desolated, even as she has been desolated to-day. Irish
-oldi.-.N, h,, played their part in those wars as they play their
part in the struggle which is now convulsing the world— the
pan of valour and renown.

Fifteen years after the Irish nuns had settled in Ypres a
great battle was fought at the other extremity of Belgium, on
the famous field of Rnmillies. In that fateful fight The Irish
Brigade, in the service of France, held the village of Ramillies.
Ihe Bght surged and raged around it, but the Irish kept their
ground. Two of the flags which they had taken from the
foe were deposited in the Irish Convent at Ypres, and a part of
one of these flags was preserved by the faithful Irish nuns
down to our own day.

Once more war clouds gathered over Europe. Once more

2

Belgium was fated to become the victim of calamities which
she did not provoke. The armies of Germany wantonly
invaded her territory and cruelly devastated her homes. Ypres
was bombarded and destroyed. The Irish Convent, often
destined to escape the fury of the storm, now perished' in the
general ruin. The charred remains of its hospitable walls
alone recall the historic memories with which its name shall
for ever be associated.

Penniless, bereft of everything except the hope and deter-
mination to retrieve their fortunes, the nuns fled from Belgium
and took refuge in England. ...

In their trouble, anxiety, and distress they sought counsel
with Irishmen to aid them in considering the best way of
finding a suitable home in the old land. Providentially such
a home offered itself in Merton House, Macmine, County
Wexford. Recently the Mother Prioress and one of the nuns
visited the place, and were pleased with it. Acting on the
advice of their friends they resolved to purchase it. We now
venture to appeal to Irishmen and Irishwomen in Ireland and
abroad to help us in collecting the necessary funds. We make
this appeal with confidence.

The nuns have told the story of their flight from Belgium
in the book, The Irisli Nuns at Ypn's, published by Messrs.
Smith, Elder, of London. The tale is an epic which will live
in the history of those fearful times to the honour of the
religious Order and the glory of womanhood. Fidelity to
religious and national ideals has been their badge of distinction
in every eventuality They shall have their reward. The
heroism, the self-devotion, the religious faith, the Christian
zeal and charity of those Irish nuns in a terrible crisis in the
history of the Order will, we venture to say, command
universal respect and admiration, mingled with pity for their
fate, and an earnest desire, among all generous souls, to help
them in retrieving their fortunes.

I. E. REDMOND, M.P.
K. BARRY O'BRIEN.

Subscriptions to "The Irish Nuns of Ypres Fund" will be
received by J. E. Richmond, M.P., Aughavan.igh, Aughrim, Co.
Wloklow; R. Barky O'Brien, ioo Sinclair Road, Kensington,
London; the Right Rev. Abbot Makmion, O.S.B., Edermine,
ESnnlscorthy ; Mr. M. J. O'Connor, Solicitor, Wexford; and
the Frttinan's Journal. Prince's Street, Dublin.

February, h»i6.